


Wear the brows of grace

by kitsune_kitana



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Fingering, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Consent Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Alive, Extremely Dubious Consent, Food Issues, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Juice Ortiz/Other(s) - Freeform, M/M, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Touching, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Power Imbalance, Public Humiliation, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Slavery, Touch-Starved, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2497580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsune_kitana/pseuds/kitsune_kitana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the Sons of Anarchy came into possession of one Juice Ortiz. </p><p>Alternate universe where slavery is accepted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alvarez gestured at the man to his right, and he stepped away, appearing again with another in tow.

"For your troubles," Marcus said, shoving the smaller man towards the Sons, where he righted himself with a stumble. "He can keep your clubhouse in order, suck a dick or two. Pretty good at that, too."

He was young, Chibs thought. Maybe in his mid-twenties. His eyes were glued to the ground, and he held himself with his shoulders hunched, as if he were trying to disappear. 

Their President only spared the man a glance, one assessing look up and down his body before grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt and dragging him roughly to his knees. He went down easily, head bowed, tanned hands bracing himself on the dirt by Chibs' boot. "Don't think this makes up for that botched hit," Clay warned, his eyes hard on the Mayan leader. "You and your boys tried to end me. That doesn't go unanswered."

Chibs kept his eyes on the conversation, but he also had the kneeling man in his peripheral vision, watching him for any sudden movements. When the Clay ended the conversation with a curt, "Let's get moving, boys," the Sons all turned, striding towards their bikes, but the other man stayed kneeling, hands bracing himself against the floor. Chibs caught his gaze when he raised his head, just a quick glance where their eyes met, and saw uncertainty if he should stay or follow.

"Ride with me, boy," Chibs said gruffly, and he saw the other man trace the scars on either side of his face with his eyes, swallowing hard before he stood and followed. He wiped his palms on his jeans and mounted Chibs' Dyna with easy familiarity after Chibs' got on himself, wrapping his arms around Chibs' waist.

"Sorry," he murmured quietly, head resting on Chib's back for a second before pulling slightly away, likely worried about invading Chibs' space.

"It's fine. We don't have a helmet for you. Hold on tight." Chibs felt the boy's arms tightening around him, close enough that he could feel the warm line of firm muscle all along his back with only his cut and the other man's t-shirt separating them. The body behind him didn't relax the entire ride, though, a stiff presence behind him up until they pulled up at Teller-Morrow.

"Thanks," the younger man said quietly as he dismounted. 

"What's your name?" Chibs pulled off his helmet.

"Juice," he replied after a short hesitation. "They call me Juice."

"Are you Mexican? Why are you with the Mayans?"

He shook his head. "My mom was Puerto Rican. They just found me. And kept me, I guess."

"Juice, eh?" Chibs shepherded him towards the entrance of the club with a hand on the small of his back. "Well then, welcome to your new home, Juicy boy."


	2. Chapter 2

"So, we got us a new club boy," Clay said, a growl in his voice as he circled around Juice, eyes hungry. He ran his hands down the boy's arms, then over his arse, squeezing, before shoving him in the direction of the bar. "Get me a beer," he said as he sat himself in a chair. His gaze was assessing as Juice went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle and opened it before walking it back to Clay, just like a prospect would, except membership wasn't the end game for him.

Clay took the drink from him with a wolfish grin, and sat back.

"Show us the ink you got," Clay ordered, and the younger man slowly pulled off his shirt and stood in front of their president, jaw stiff as if he were waiting for them to jump him any second. Chibs grabbed a bottle of Jack for himself, tipping some into a glass as he looked on at the black ink down both Juice's arms, and on his chest, in addition to the tribal tatts on either side of his mohawk.

"No Mayan marks?" Clay asked, and Juice shook his head.

"No, sir."

"Why don't you get over here, then, and show me what you can do." Clay's grin was wide, and he shifted his legs apart, expectations obvious. Chibs gripped his glass tightly as the boy walked forward, eyes trained on the ground, and went to his knees. 

They'd all sucked and fucked in front of each other before--that's why they kept crow eaters around, and it didn't make sense to bother grabbing a room just to get yourself off. But something about this sat uncomfortably in his stomach, watching Juice settle himself between Clay's legs while the rest of the MC looked on, quiet.

Chibs heard the sound of a zipper as he threw back the dregs of his whiskey, and the soft, wet sounds of a blowjob permeated the air as he poured himself another.

"We just going to stand around watching you get your dick sucked?" Tig laughed, then moved forward at Clay's gesture over Juice's back half. 

"By all means," he offered, his hand going back to Juice's bobbing head. "Slow it down, baby," Clay said with a groan, and Chibs could see the boy obey, taking long deep pulls off Clay's cock while Tig manhandled him up by his hips, off his knees.

The Sergeant at Arms made short work of Juice's jeans, shoving them down his thighs. 

"This is quite the show, lads," Chibs said, trying to sound noncommittal as he poured himself another drink. He watched Juice struggle to keep sucking Clay's dick as the man behind him spread his cheeks with his thumbs and spit, gripping his prick at the base and trying to push in.

"Come on, come on," Tig muttered to himself, "So fucking tight---ahhh."

And the moment of penetration was accompanied by a low groan from Tig, hips thrusting in short strokes until he was buried inside Juice. Chibs wasn't sure what to think, watching the boy get spitroasted by his brothers, Tig speeding up so the sound of his balls slapping the arse of their newest possession was matched by the wet sound of Juice trying to keep pace sucking.

"Fuck," Clay muttered under his breath, hand on Juice's head forcing him to take Clay's cock deeper and deeper, until he pushed the boy's mouth down to the root with a groan.

"Oh shit," he exclaimed as he came down Juice's throat, Tig still pounding him from behind. "You've got a sweet mouth. Alvarez wasn't lying," he said, voice languorous when he finally let go. Juice came up sputtering, come on his chin, bracing himself on the arms the the chair Clay was sitting on. 

"Thank you, sir," he said, eyes clenched closed. Clay laughed and used his thumb to smear the come across the boy's lips. 

"Don't be afraid to make a little noise next time."

And Juice obeyed as Clay stood up, walking away, a rhythmic moan working its way out of his chest as Tig fucked him more frantically from behind, until Happy stood and took Clay's place on the chair, unzipping his jeans before pushing Juice's head back down between his legs.

"Fuck yeah," Chibs heard behind him as took his whiskey and himself to another room, not sure what was driving this discomfort in his chest. He remembered how those arms felt, warm as he gripped Chibs' waist on the ride home.


	3. Chapter 3

It was hours later when Chibs stumbled out of the back room of the clubhouse and towards the toilet, still a little drunk and head pounding, that he ran into Juice again. The boy was naked, one leg up on the closed seat of the toilet, trying to clean himself.

"Sorry," he said nervously, avoiding Chibs' gaze. It seemed like the only thing Juice had said to him since he came with them to Teller-Morrow, and as the lad hastily threw the paper in the bin, making towards the exit, Chibs reached for his wrist hoping to calm him, put his fears at being assaulted to rest.

At first contact, Juice flinched, jerking away before catching himself and raising panicked eyes to Chibs' face. He backed away quickly, and then maneuvered himself against the wall, arms bracing himself and legs spread. His arse was round and taut, enticing in a way Chibs hadn't found a man to be in a long time, but Chibs also noted the red marks where one of his brothers must've gripped him while they fucked, the come smeared on his thighs, sticky and flaking as it dried.

He must feel disgusting, Chibs thought, but as soon as he started to speak, "Lad, I don't want--" Juice pushed himself away from the peeling plaster with a soft, mumbled "Sorry, sir," and went to his knees.

"You don't have to do this," Chibs said. Juice slowed, sat back on his heels.

"Then what do you want me to do?" Juice asked.

"It's been a long day. Why don't you come back to mine, where you can actually take a shower, and catch some sleep."

Juice looked uncertain. "What happens if Clay or the others ask for me?"

Chibs laughed. "They've got plenty of other places to get some arse, Juice. You've done your part getting the club off today."

Juice ducked his head, cheeks darkening. "You're right, sir. Thank you." He looked at the a pile of clothes from the side of the sink, the only clothes he'd come with, Chibs noted, thinking to himself that he needed to get a change for the boy before he started to reek.

"Do you mind if I…" the lad trailed off hesitantly, and Chibs remembered what Juice was doing before he'd been interrupted. "I just don't want it to get on your seat."

"You and me both," Chibs agreed.

Juice grabbed some paper towels, wetting them before taking his place back at the toilet, one leg up on the seat, face pink at being watched while he wiped the come from his thighs and between his legs with a quiet hiss. He balled them up afterwards and threw them into the bin before gingerly stepping into his jeans.

"You all right there, boy?" Chibs asked at the sound he made. "Were they too rough?"

"No," Juice said, pulling his shirt over his head. "I'll be fine for whatever."

His voice was tired. That nagged at Chibs as he left the clubhouse, Juice ducking his head and following him out blindly. Chibs strapped his helmet in place, gesturing with his elbow at a spare, then swung his leg over. Juice followed suit, sitting himself down gingerly behind Chibs, and the stiff way that he moved reminded Chibs that half the club had probably been inside the other man tonight.

Juice was an uncomfortable presence behind him the whole ride, which was thankfully short. He wasn't sure if the boy was worried about making physical contact, too sore to settle himself onto the seat of Chibs' Dyna, too afraid to get a really solid grip around Chibs' and hold on. When they arrived, Juice trailed him inside, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes on the dirty carpet of the living room.

"You had something to eat today, boy?"

Juice shot him a quick, careful look, then shook his head.

"Well, let's make something for the both of us." Chibs strode towards his kitchen, and was surprised to see Juice come up beside him.

"I can do it," Juice said. "You can sit and I'll bring you something."

"I can make my own damn sandwiches," Chibs retorted, and his voice must've been more gruff than he intended because the other man took a few steps back, body tensing. He was bracing himself, Chibs realized, and while he couldn't be sure how the Mayans treated the men and women they owned, after observing Juice's reactions, it seemed like a safe bet that it wasn't with a kind hand. "Come on now, boy," he said with a sigh. "Take a seat and I'll be right there."

His fridge was usually pitifully empty, but he managed some bread that wasn't on the cusp of molding, mustard, and cold cuts, and surprisingly there was enough to pile together enough food for the both of them. Pleased with himself, Chibs threw each sandwich on a plate, and slid one in front of Juice before settling in his own chair.

The way the other man tore into the food in front of him told Chibs that he truly hadn't eaten in a while, taking the sandwich in large mouthfuls as if someone might take it away from him if he didn't eat it fast enough. "I forgot how hungry I was," Juice said apologetically, between bites. "Thanks."

"Do you want another?"

Juice hesitated, thinking, but shook his head. "That was fine."

Chibs nodded as he polished off his own, then looked around the room. "I'm sure I've got a towel around here somewhere. You can take a shower and clean yourself up a bit--it's right through that door. Crash on the couch for the night. There's a blanket or something in the closet."

The other man stood, gathering both their plates and took them to the kitchen. The water ran as he presumably washed the plates, and then Juice reappeared, grabbing a towel from the closet. He paused outside the bathroom door.

"I'll be quick," he said to Chibs, eyes solemn.

Chibs wasn't sure what to do with himself as he heard the water start running. He lit a cigarette, opened a beer, thought about the piece of shit repair he'd been working on for the last week at Teller-Morrow. He was tapping the ash of his cigarette off in the vague direction of the ashtray, wishing he could trade his beer for a whiskey, when the door opened.

Wet, was all he could think as the MC's newest acquisition walked over to him. He was spotted with water, a small towel around his waist, and maybe Chibs hadn't noticed the first time around because Juice had looked so pathetic in the bathroom, but the boy was fit. Built chest, tight stomach, defined muscles low on his pelvis that led to a nice, cut cock, Chibs observed as Juice let the towel fall to the ground. It'd been a long time since Chibs had cared about who was swinging at the end of his dick, but it wasn't hard to imagine that he would have anything but a good time bending that body over his couch.

Whatever ruminations Chibs might've been entertaining about Juice's body, he wasn't surprised at all when the other man went to his knees in front of him, hands rubbing up his thighs.

"I can make you feel good," Juice whispered, and Chibs felt his cock twitch at that, the careless way the younger man offered himself up to Chibs. "Just tell me what you want." He bent down and rubbed his cheek against Chibs' dick through his jeans, turning to breathe heavily against him so that Chibs could feel moist heat even through the denim.

But it wasn't right. Whatever nagging, horny feelings Chibs had, he knew this was the truth. The boy had literally had half the club up in him just a few hours earlier, and he must've been sore and tired, probably thinking about how to take care of one last Son before he could finally sleep for the night. The facade of want wasn't exactly what Chibs was looking for. He smoothed his hand over the curve of Juice's head, thumb against his tattoos and the short shorn hair around them, and the other man leaned into it, nuzzling.

"I don't need this from you, boy," Chibs said as steadily as he could. "You look like you need a good night's rest much more than you need another fuck."

Juice's jaw tightened, and Chibs could see the motion of tendon against bone as the other man clenched his teeth, probably consternated that this exchange of sex for a few creature comforts had taken much longer than he was anticipating.

"I don't have anything else to give you." The boy's voice was monotone. "I don't have any money. Marcus took all that before he brought me here. And I haven't started earning anything, but if that's what you want--"

"No!" Chibs interrupted. "I mean it. You need a good night's sleep, and you can have it here, on my couch. All I'm offering is a pillow and a blanket, Juice. You won't owe me anything."

Juice's eyes were wary.

"Let me grab you something to sleep in," Chibs offered, and even though he was hesitant to follow Chibs into his room, he took the proffered sweat pants and shirt readily, hands pulling the pants up around his hips and the t-shirt over his torso, covering ink and lovely muscles. He looked smaller, somehow, more unsure of himself as he stood in Chibs' too-large clothes.

"I'm going to bed," Chibs said, firmly. "Fuck off to the couch." And Juice obeyed, exiting quietly, presumably to put himself to bed.

And Chibs threw himself onto his own bed, sighing, willing his dick to let go of the missed opportunity already.


	4. Chapter 4

He woke up to soft, wet suction, a mouth on his prick that was drawing groans from him before he was even fully awake. Chibs didn't remember bringing home a crow eater, didn't have the headache accompanying any other situation where he might've picked someone else up.

Chibs looked down, saw a shaved head and tribal swirls, and he remembered the boy they'd been gifted by the Mayans yesterday, that the MC had fucked and Chibs had brought home and cleaned and fed and put to bed.

"Juice," he gasped, ready to push the other man away at the same time that Juice pulled back, fist at the base of his dick while he teased at Chibs' foreskin with his lips and tongue, before sliding it back and lapping at the exposed glans. It would have taken a stronger man than he was at his best to summon the ability to stop this, much less Chibs when he was still blinking sleep from his vision, tired and horny, and the boy was working his cock like an old pro.

He fought to keep his hips still. Juice must've thought he was earning himself a little comfort, paying for a sandwich and a couch to sleep on. And while Chibs had known that he was not a good man, he doubly affirmed it while sliding hot and slick across Juice's tongue. It was the best thing he'd felt in a long time. He couldn't help the grunt of pleasure when Juice diverted his attention from just the head, sucking him in deep.

"That's it," Chibs muttered, his hands wandering down the cradle the sides of Juice's face, and Juice moaned at the contact. He pulled back, panting, and then tilted his head to kiss along the underside of Chibs' cock, dipping down to lap at Chibs' balls before sucking one into his mouth. He rolled it gently before releasing it with a soft pop and paying the same attention to the other side.

"Shit, boy," Chibs hissed, and Juice raised his head, locking gazes with him as he traced his way back up to Chibs' cock with the tip of his tongue, brown eyes clear and knowing, before slowly sinking down, taking Chibs down his throat to the root.

Chibs had to shut his eyes against the image of the other man taking him in completely, but it only made the sensation more intense as Juice swallowed around him. He cursed again and reached down, fingers exploring where Juice's lips were stretched around his dick.

"I'm close," he warned, and Juice's hands went to his hips, urging him upwards. Chibs understood. He slid one hand behind the boy's head, wishing there were hair he could grip, and began to thrust, lazily fucking Juice's mouth first with just the tip, quick and short, and then lengthening his strokes as his balls tightened, pushing Juice's head down to meet him partway. And Juice took it, throat relaxing, head following Chibs' lead until he plunged into that hot wetness one last time, holding Juice against him even when he felt the boy's throat spasming, too much too soon.

Juice pulled back, swallowing and coughing, as soon as Chibs released him. "Sorry," he choked out, clearing his throat painfully before he leaned back in, mouth careful as he cleaned Chibs off.

"I hope that was okay," he said afterwards, off to the bed to the side, waiting while Chibs caught his breath. "I just wanted to say thank you. You were really nice to me yesterday, and I know you don't have to be."

Chibs rolled onto his side and had to close his eyes for a moment at the face staring up at him, warm brown eyes and lips swollen and wet with his come. "Christ, boy," he said, "You don't need to suck off everyone who treats you like a human being."

Juice was silent beside him before he responded. "I won't," he said, and it sounded like a promise. "I'll try not to."


	5. Chapter 5

By the time they arrived back at Teller-Morrow, Juice was once again as reticent as he'd been before Chibs had seen to his care and feeding. He'd slipped back inside the clubhouse with barely a nod, having turned down breakfast, coffee, but not a clean shirt. For a second, with nothing and no one around him but a few beat up cars and a dusty, hot breeze, Chibs entertained the idea that he'd made it all up, that he hadn't actually met this boy with his bruised gaze and his soft, eager mouth, that he hadn't watched while his brothers fucked him and then pushed his own way into Juice when the boy was most vulnerable. 

Chibs sighed, feeling older than he had in a while, and went around to the garage, grabbing his coveralls to change into.

"Well I'll be damned," he heard behind him, "if I didn't just see that new piece of ass come in wearing your clothes." Tig's grin was wide and shit-eating.

"He needed something fresh," Chibs said, not rising to the bait. "And it's not like the Mayans gifted him along with a wardrobe."

"Yeah, did he need something fresh after you spent the night banging?" He pumped his hips conspiratorially, and something in Chibs' face gave him away because Tig began to cackle. "Oh yes, brother, I knew you got into him! You dirty little fuck, I bet you did a number--"

"Juice, his name is Juice," Chibs got out as Tig jostled him, arm around his neck.

"Yeah, that sweet juicy lay," Tig teased, and then somehow Juice was there, face red, a bag of clinking glass in his hands.

"Sorry," he muttered, "Just cleaning up."

"No problem here." Tig sidled up to him, and Chibs read trouble all over the way he was eyeing Juice up, that tone in his voice that could've meant either sex or violence, or both together. "You have a good time last night? I think we had a good time."

The younger man was curling up on himself again, hand gripping the bag of recycling like a life line. "Yeah, I had a good time. Thanks."

But the hook was set. Tig was all over him, circling. "Good, 'cause I did too. And we can do it again, as many times as you like. I could even do it now, if you're down." He stepped closer so he could slide his hands over Juice's arse, squeezing.

"If that's what you want." His voice was monotone. Chibs watched Juice stumble forward as Tig pulled him up against his body, leaning down to whisper into his ear, and Chibs would've put money on it being something obscene, the way his brother was leering. 

"That's enough now," Chibs growled.

"Hey, just gimme a second," Tigs said, and then turned back to Juice, still murmuring. 

Chibs pulled out a cigarette, watching from the corner of his eye as Juice shifted uncomfortably, eyes on the ground, nodding. It wasn't until he saw the boys face twist that he realized Tig had slid his hand into the back of Juice's pants. 

"You like that?" he heard Tig groan, his other hand shaking Juice's free from the bag of bottles, where they fell to the floor with a clatter. He pulled Juice's hand between his own legs. "You're making me so hard, baby," he said, grinding against Juice's palm.

Chibs wasn't a jealous man, and he knew that Juice was club property, explicitly there to be passed around like any other sweetbutt they could point at and sink right into. But the thought of Tig fingering Juice while Chibs stood beside him like an idiot, coveralls in hand, was more than he could handle this morning.

"Cut it out," he warned, and Tig turned to face him, the motion of his arm making it obvious that he was finger deep already. 

"There's no need to get angry, brother. There's enough of him to go around."

It wouldn't have been the first time he shared someone with Tig, or the last time, if Chibs were honest with himself, but somehow this felt personal.

"I said that's enough."

Tigs grinned at Chibs, pulling his hand out and putting his middle finger in his mouth. He made a point of sucking it clean, pulling it out with a loud pop.

"He tastes sweet," Tig said with a smug look. "No wonder you couldn't get enough." It was one last look from Juice, a second of desperate eye contact, that brought him to the brink.

Chibs was on Tig in a second, fist to his jaw, weight bringing them both down to the floor. They scrambled, Tig's hand in his hair, yanking his head back before landing a blow of his own. Pain exploded across the left side of his face, stars and the iron taste of blood, and he could see Juice for just a second, eyes frightened, before hands were hauling him off of Tig.

"What the fuck is wrong with you," he heard Jax yelling.

"Nothing," Chibs panted, when he finally caught his breath, when he really meant, 'I didn't fuck Juice last night,' and 'You better keep your hands off him.'

But Tig was a Son too, and the last thing Chibs needed was to cause problems between him and his brothers. 

"Nothing," Chibs muttered again. "Just a misunderstanding between who fucks who here. We'll work it out among ourselves, Jackie boy." He saw that Juice was hunched over, looking hunted and afraid.

"Handle your shit," the VP hissed. "And get back to work."

Chibs nodded and Jax's ire passed on to their newest possession. "You stop starting trouble or, I swear to god, I will be the one to end it." 

"I'm sorry," Juice whispered low. "I didn't mean to."

"It's not his problem," Tig said, and his eyes were boring into Chibs as he said this. "Chibs and I are just working some things out. We don't have an issue."

It was easy to nod and follow along with Tig's story. It was harder to turn away from Juice, but Chibs somehow managed, pulling on his coveralls as Juice picked up the bag of bottles from somewhere behind him and walked away.


	6. Chapter 6

Chibs did his best to concentrate on his work. 

It helped that Tig wasn't around, out backing Clay as he parleyed with the Mayans. After Alvarez's messy attempt at ending both Clay and Darby on the same night, all the Sons were on edge, not sure if the meet would end in blood or peace. Until Chibs heard further, it was just him, his nerves, and someone's rusty Camero badly in need of a rotor repair and a faulty head gasket in another old station wagon. Much easier to lose himself in grease and dirt and taking things apart than putting together the fate of his club, or exactly why he was letting this new boy get under his skin.

Gemma stopped by a few hours later, heels clacking on the concrete, and he wasn't sure what it was that caught her attention--his expression, the silence, something one of the others mentioned to her in passing--but she zeroed in on him immediately, her instincts sensing strife like a shark scenting blood. He sighed, knowing that it was futile trying to hide anything from the den mother. 

"Oh honey," she said, hand turning his chin so she could get a better look at where his cheek was starting to swell up. "I hear Clay's having some trouble with brown. Is this blowback from the Mexicans?"

He laughed. "I didn't get this fighting off Mayans, love. Just a minor altercation with Tig."

She frowned. "Aren't you two a little old to still be brawling over pussy?"

"It wasn't pussy. Alvarez handed over a boy, and cash. Start of reparations for the shit he pulled on Clay. I may have gotten a little bit pissy over having to see Tig humping him so many times in so few hours, but maybe that's me showing my age."

Gemma's face was skeptical. "Pissy over seeing Tig being a horn dog? Honey, if that was a stopper for you, you would've beaten him to death years ago." Her expression made it clear she knew she wasn't getting the full story. "Where's this new piece of ass, Chibs? I want to see who's causing trouble with my boys."

"I think he was cleaning out the clubhouse. Gemma," Chibs warned. "Don't give him trouble for something he had no control over."

As with the Sons' abilities to control Gemma any other time, she rolled her eyes and started to walk away. "The day I listen to you about how to treat these bitches you boys keep dragging back to Teller-Morrow is the day I stop breathing."

Chibs cursed as she stomped off, scrambling to wipe his hands clean and follow her in. He could hear her calling out as soon as she got the door open, "New boy! Get your ass over here before I hand it back to you in pieces."

Chibs scanned the room, locating Juice just as he exited the kitchen, rag and a bottle of some kind of cleaning solution still clutched in his hands. His face was stricken.

"Ma'am--" he started, but Gemma stepped closer.

"Did you cause this?" She pointed back at Chibs, ostensibly at his bruised face, and Chibs rolled his eyes internally, but saw Juice blanch. His gaze dropped to the floor, hand clutching the towel.

"He didn't do anything but wander across Tig's line of sight while he was horny," Chibs interrupted.

"You better learn who I am, kid," Gemma was saying at the same time, voice raised over his. "Know that I am Clay's old lady and I will not allow some piece of ass Alvarez has thrown into our back yard to cause trouble--" when Juice dropped heavily to his knees.

The move startled them both into silence. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said softly. "I didn't mean to cause any problems." Juice put the towel and bottle aside. "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, sir--" And Gemma shot him a look at that. "Sir?" she mouthed, and Chibs shook his head--"I'll do it.

He met Chibs' eyes for just a second before he looked away again. "Just please don't tell Clay to give me back. I'll make this right."

Neither he nor Gemma needed to think very hard on the reason for Juice's fear, and maybe it was the plea in his voice, or Gemma regretting coming on so aggressive from the get-go, but she cleared her throat with a little chagrin. "Sounds like you're sorry enough," she hedged, "and if that rag in your hand is any indication that you're trying to clean up that kitchen, that's plenty of punishment."

Juice nodded, eyes serious. Gemma spun, walking out of the clubhouse, crooking her finger at Chibs, making it clear she expected him to follow. He left Juice kneeling on the floor, and the moment Gemma slammed the door shut, she turned on him.

"Way to tell me what I was walking into." She raised an eyebrow.

"I tried, Gem, but you went in blazing."

She gave him a wry smile, but it turned serious, fast. "Did he come here like that, or did you all manage to put the fear in him in just one night?"

"Christ, Gemma," Chibs dodged her eyes. "They roughed him up a bit, but I get the feeling there wasn't a whole lot more we could've done to him that the Mayans hadn't already tried."

Gemma shook her head, and Chibs could tell that his bruised face wasn't the only thing bothering her anymore. "That boy doesn't seem like he's seen a lot of kind hands in his day."

"I don't disagree, so I think you should be careful where you aim that temper around him." 

She sighed. "We've all got our scar tissue, baby." And as she walked away from him, "Don't think I didn't notice that he was wearing your clothes, Chibs."

Why does everyone fucking know what my clothes look like, he thought to himself as he called out for Half-Sack.

The prospect dame running around the corner. "What do you need, Chibs?"

"Go run and get some damn clothes for the new boy."

"What? The new guy Alvarez gave us? I'm kind of in the middle of something--"

"I said fucking go," Chibs growled, and watched the prospect shut his mouth and rush off.


	7. Chapter 7

Chibs' stomach informed him it was lunch time by rumbling noisily, and he wandered into the clubhouse in search of something easy to slap together, thinking alternatively he could ride down to the local diner and grab a quick burger. He saw Juice behind the bar, wiping down bottles of liquor, and made his way over. When Juice noticed him approaching, he dropped the rag, bending over to grab something out of sight.

"Here."

Chibs looked up at the proffered bag of ice wrapped around a bar towel.

"For your face," Juice explained. He still looked nervous when Chibs took the ice from his hand, but he gave Chibs a crooked smile that disappeared as quickly as it came. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

Chibs sighed, holding the ice to his cheek. It was probably too late for it to do much good considering how he could feel his cheek throbbing, but the boy meant well. "This many of us in such close quarters, you introduce anything new and there's bound to be quarreling. We're not giving you back to Alvarez."

Juice nodded grimly. "He'd be really angry if I fucked things up this fast." Both of them were silent, neither needing to elucidate what a pissed off Alvarez meant for Juice's well-being. It wasn't hard for Chibs to imagine what they would do to a peace offering like Juice if the club rejected him. 

"Please tell me if there's anything I can do to make it right, sir."

"It's Chibs," he snapped, then regretted it when he saw Juice flinch. "You don't have to pull that 'sir' shit with me. Had enough of that myself when I was in the army." 

Juice bit his lip, leaning away, perhaps unconsciously. His hand grabbed the rag on the bar like it was habit or a safety blanket, and Chibs realized how much cleaning it seemed the boy had done, glasses stacked, the wood surface of the bar cleared of old bottles and smelling faintly of bleach. "You need anything else?"

"You had anything to eat?"

Juice made a motion for him to wait and disappeared into the kitchen, coming out with a steaming bowl. "Here you go," he said, putting it down in front of Chibs at the bar. "Chili. It's been on the stove for a while."

"Smells delicious," he said, grinning to see Juice's face relax a bit. "But that's not what I asked. Have you eaten anything yet?"

The younger man's brow wrinkled. "I wanted to make sure everyone got their share first," he said, a little quieter. "There are leftovers that I can get to later."

"Or," Chibs interrupted, "you'll do what I tell you to do and grab yourself some of this and keep me company."

Juice huffed out a laugh, small and quiet, gave him a nod, but when he came back with his own bowl, he stood to eat instead of taking one of the stools beside Chibs. "Half-Sack dropped off some clothes," he murmured after a silence. "I forgot to say thank you."

"You didn't exactly come to us with anything but the clothes on your back," Chibs said. "What else were you going to do?"

Juice shrugged one shoulder. 

The room was warm, television droning pleasantly in the background, and Chibs didn't have anything pressing to get to in the garage, so he sat back. "Tell me about yourself."

"There's not much to say," Juice replied, spoon forgotten in one hand, fingers on the other rubbing at something sticky he'd missed on the bar.

"How about starting with where you're from."

The boy shifted from one foot to the other, staring down at his food, and Chibs was half convinced that he wasn't going to answer when he finally said, "New York. I grew up in Queens."

"And how does a kid from Queens end up in Oakland?"

"Bad luck mostly." He smiled, but it wasn't happy. "Mom moved to California with her boyfriend when I was thirteen. Disappeared with him a while after that. Mayans found me and took me in."

Christ, growing up with the Mayans sounded like a bad idea, especially for a boy with Juice's brand of vulnerability. He was sensitive, Chibs could tell, instead of going cold like he'd seen so many others go after being owned by a club. Anyone could tell from a mile away that Juice had been hurt before and every emotion was written all over the boy's face, whether it was pleasure, pain, or humiliation. Chibs knew from experience that this specific blend of damage and vulnerability drew predators like flies to honey.

"And what did you do when they took you in?" Chibs asked, even though he knew the answer. 

"Kept things clean. Got fucked. Stayed out of their way." He cleared his throat. "You want some more of that?"

Chibs nodded, noticing that Juice's bowl was still mostly full when he grabbed Chibs' to refill it. He came back with the bowl in one hand and a beer in the other hand, popping off the top and sliding it over. Chibs wanted to ask if it was his company that was keeping the boy from enjoying the lunch he'd spent the morning making, maybe Juice feeling too busy rushing around and making sure Chibs' needs were met to take the time to feed himself, but he knew asking would only upset him.

"Thanks, Juicy," he said, taking a long swallow of the cold brew, and Juice gave him a shy half-smile. It made him feel something warm in his chest. He realized that it wasn't going to be the smartest thing he'd ever done, especially since Juice's last night with Chibs, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Where are you bunking down tonight?"

Juice paused. "I'm fine on the floor," he replied cautiously. He looked at Chibs for a moment, then looked away. Chibs had no doubt that the younger man had some inkling of his--his inexplicable protectiveness. Chibs recoiled internally at calling it anything more. And Chibs wasn't stupid--he didn't doubt what the others would ask of Juice in return for a bed. The younger man was probably worried at how Chibs would react when confronting the knowledge that Juice would be sleeping with his brothers.

Used by his brothers, Chib corrected himself.

"If you wanna come to my place tonight," Chib said evenly, "you know I've got the room. And I know the water pressure here is shit."

"I don't mind it," Juices voice was nervous.

"Come on now, no need to pretend." Chibs tried to crack a grin.

The other man stayed quiet for a second, not moving, as if being still might make him disappear. "You want me to come over?"

"Yeah," Chibs sighed. "My shift ends at six. Why don't you come back to mine after that?"

"Sure, Chibs." Juice collected the bowls and bottle in his arms, turning away. He paused at the doorway, back still to Chibs, and said, "I'll see you at the garage then," and disappeared into the kitchen.


	8. Chapter 8

When six finally rolled around, Chibs rose with a groan, stretching and hearing his back crack loudly.

"I'm out," he called behind him. "Need anything before I go, prospect?"

Half-Sack rolled out from under a car. "No, just wrapping this one up today."

"Good work, lad," he said, and went to wash his hands and change back into his day clothes. Walking out of the garage, he scanned the area for Juice and saw him standing next to his Dyna along the back wall of Teller-Morrow.

"Hey, kid," Chibs called when he was close, and Juice jumped, crossing his arms.

"I didn't touch it," he said quickly. Chibs laughed.

"Wasn't saying you did. I'm sure you know better than to touch another man's bike without permission."

Juice nodded, and Chibs threw the extra helmet he'd grabbed on the way out over to Juice, watched him catch it in his hands, and mounted the bike. "Come on," he invited when he saw Juice still waiting beside him.

Juice swung his leg over, settling himself. This time when he wrapped his arms around Chibs' waist, he wasn't shy about fully leaning against Chibs, a warm, welcome presence against his back. It felt nice to have the boy behind him, grip firm around his midsection, brushing up against him when Chibs braked hard. And it wasn't long before his thoughts strayed, looking down and seeing Juice's hands holding tight to the leather of his cut. Chibs imagined coaxing the boy into giving him a reach around as he rode. Or, he thought with a little groan, pulling over and having Juice go to his knees for him on the side of the road.

By the time they arrived in his driveway, his pants were feeling tight. He tried to be subtle about it when he got off his bike but saw Juice eye him briefly and then look away. "I'm fucking starving," Chibs said loudly, trying to bring the lad's attention to something other than the bulge in his pants as he mentally tried to will it down.

"You fed me last time," Juice said. "Let me make something for you this time."

"I won't argue with that, lad."

Chibs let them into his home and led Juice past the living room and into the kitchen, flipping on lights and throwing his keys on the counter. "Use whatever you want. It's not the most well-stocked of places." He was a little embarrassed as Juice peeked into the fridge and the few cabinets.

"I think I can make some pasta," he said finally, washing his hands in the sink. "Does that sound okay?"

"If it's hot food, you've already exceeded expectations," Chibs grinned, and was pleased to receive a shy smile in return.

He leaned in a corner, lighting up a cigarette, as the boy unearthed potatoes from somewhere, chopping them into slices. He rubbed them down with oil, salt, and pepper, put them on a tray, and threw the whole thing into the oven. By the time Juice had a pot of water boiling on the stove, pasta box open beside it and ready to be thrown in, other ingredients pulled down from the cabinets and sitting beside him on the counter, Chibs realized that the chili at lunch wasn't a fluke. Juice really knew his way around a kitchen. Chibs noted this out loud.

"Thanks," Juice said, the tips of his ears red as he rustled in the fridge. He pulled out a beer bottle, looking at Chibs questioningly, and at his nod, twisted off the cap and slid it over.

"You can help yourself," Chibs offered, but Juice shook his head.

"Where'd you learn how to cook?" Chibs asked, diverting. Juice gave a little laugh.

"If I didn't, I never would've eaten when I was a kid." He shrugged. "And it was another thing I could do to earn my keep with the Mayans. Just got used to making food for lots of people." He didn't look at Chibs as he said this.

It was hard to think about, Juice as a child putting together a meal for himself, and Juice, a little older, putting together meals for the men who owned him. It wasn't any different than what he was doing now, and Chibs wasn't self-deceptive enough to think that his treating the boy with a more gentle hand than his previous masters made it okay. There wasn't much that Chibs thought could be worse than his own situation: torn away from his family, face mutilated, exiled from his country. But he'd come out of it meaner, stronger, molded by his experience, and even more fiercely protective of his new family. Juice had been put through worse trials, Chibs was coming to realize, and somehow found himself still in the thick of it. He'd come out of his circumstances used, quieted, and trained for the men who owned him.

Chibs stood, discomfited, when the lad finally turned to him, the tomatoes bubbling away on the stove, potatoes sputtering on their tray in the oven. "We can let these go for a while," he said. Juice stirred everything around once more before setting the spoon down.

They stood there in silence, Chibs sipping at his beer while Juice looked at him from under his lashes. Chibs was nervous, something he hadn't been for a long time, not recognizing the jittery feeling under his skin. He became conscious of the fact that Juice's eyeing him might just be the boy trying to read him, looking for a move, a word, some cue to tell him what to do next, and not being sure himself, he held out his hand, offering Juice his cigarette.

Juice stared at it for a second before reaching out, taking it from Chibs and bringing it to his mouth. He inhaled shakily, the end of the cigarette flaring bright. It'd been a while since he'd made a wise decision anyway, Chibs thought, and when he reached out to take back the cigarette, he used the same hand to nudge Juice's chin up until the other man met his gaze. Chibs slowly traced his mouth with his thumb, remembering how Juice felt between his legs just that morning.

"Chibs," Juice murmured, not protesting, but not resisting either, and Chibs leaned in to press their lips together.

Juice made a noise, a hot little whimper in the back of his throat, and his mouth was soft and eager, tongue tasting like smoke when Chibs teased at it with his own. They broke apart with a sigh, and Chibs threw the cigarette into the sink, cupping Juice's face with his hand and leaning in again.

This time the lad was more aggressive, his hands coming up to grip Chibs' cut as he opened his mouth to make the kiss deeper. He pulled them closer together, and Chibs slipped his leg between the other man's, feeling Juice stiffening against him. Chibs moved forward, encouraging the younger man to grind against him, and felt the boy thrust in return, little movements of his hips seeking friction on Chibs' thigh. He reached down and cupped Juice through his pants.

Juice froze for a second when Chibs made contact, and then moaned into his mouth. He was leaning heavily against Chibs' chest, hips still moving, pulling at Chibs' cut to bring him closer. Chibs squeezed the boy's cock through the denim, trying to coax him into making that sound again. This was all he needed tonight: Juice's hot mouth, Juice rubbing up against him, soft, sexy noises escaping from his throat.

Chibs let his hand inch under the waistband of the lad's jeans, undoing the top button, wanting to take him into his hand and feel him hard and leaking. But Juice stopped him, grabbing his wrist with a shaky smile.

"Don't worry about that," he said, licking his lips. He deftly undid Chibs' pants, carefully pulling out his cock. "Let me do you first."

The boy turned, pulling Chibs close behind him until Chibs' dick was nestled against his arse. Chibs leaned into the other man, who was bracing himself on the counter with one hand. He heard the sound of a zipper, and felt Juice pushing his own jeans and underwear down his thighs. Chibs squeezed his eyes closed as he thrust his hips, feeling his cock slide against warm skin. "Christ," Chibs said, looking down to see the wet smear against brown skin before he pushed his cock between Juice's thighs, the tip nudging the boy's balls with each stroke, feeling the tiny rhythmic motions of Juice starting to jerk himself off. He knew at that moment that he could slick up his cock, spread Juice's arse, and bury himself inside without the boy protesting, and the temptation was almost overwhelming. Chibs pushed forward, wanting to see Juice handle himself, and Juice caught Chibs' gaze over his shoulder, his lids already half closed with pleasure. When he saw that Chibs' focus was on him, straining to watch, he tightened his legs, arching his back, hand still moving between his own legs.

"Fuck," Chibs muttered, unable to help speeding up his thrusts, imagining that he was fucking the other man, burying himself in tight, clutching heat. His hands slid over Juice's hips, his chest, to try and bring their bodies together, and as he did so, his fingers brushed over Juice's nipples. The lad shivered under his touch.

"Did you like that?" he asked huskily.

Juice hand slowed, but he nodded.

Chibs ran his fingers over them again, pinching him gently through the cotton of his shirt, and Juice jerked against him with a little cut off moan. Chibs felt his dick throb, though he could see the muscles of Juice's shoulders tighten up, then ease out again, unnaturally fast, forced relaxing. Something was off.

He backed away, mentally cursing himself, grabbing Juice by the hips and spinning him around until the small of his back was against the counter. Juice looked weirdly tense, ashamed, his hands gripping the wooden edge of the countertop behind him. His hard on was flagging, and he wouldn't meet Chibs' eyes. "Please," he said, and his face was drawn tight, "let me try again."

"Hey now," Chibs said, feeling like a jerk. "I just want the both of us to feel good."

"Yeah," Juice said with a small smile, but Chibs could see it was forced. "Me too. Let me take care of you before your dinner burns."

Chibs couldn't bring himself to protest as Juice went to his knees, though he knew that he'd missed something in the exchange, something that had made the other man afraid. But when Juice leaned in, wrapping his lips around the head of Chibs' cock, all rational thought fled his mind. "Jesus christ," Chibs moaned, throwing his head back. He could feel Juice's hand curl around the base of his dick, moving in rhythm with his bobbing mouth.

Remembering how hard Juice had been earlier and not wanting to leave him unsatisfied, he opened his eyes again. "You can touch yourself," Chibs said. He looked down, watching as the younger man eased Chibs' foreskin forward, pressing a sucking kiss to the tip before rising on his knees to wrap his other hand around his own cock. He stroked as he moaned around Chibs' dick. The slick, wet sounds of Juice's mouth, of Juice jerking himself off below him, filled the room.

"I'm close," Chibs warned when he felt his balls tightening, hand going down to cradle the side of the younger man's face. Juice must have taken that as a cue to stay put rather than a warning, because the suction of his mouth didn't let up until Chibs came, and he swallowed without pause. Chibs felt hot, drowsy, as if all his energy had been drained through his dick, his thighs twitching as Juice gently sucked him through the aftershocks and tucked Chibs back into his jeans. The boy leaned back, wiping at the corner of his mouth with his hand.

"Was that okay?" he asked.

"That was good. Great," Chibs praised, catching his breath, grinning. He realized that Juice was still hard. "You didn't come? What are you waiting for, permission?"

Juice gave him a tight smile, and starting jerking himself off quickly. If Chibs were younger, he would've been able to get hard again just watching the wet, flushed head of Juice's cock disappearing into his fist, hearing the quick little breaths Juice took as he got closer, hand stripping his dick before he came neatly into his palm. 

He was still hunched over, catching his breath, when he murmured up to Chibs, "The guys usually liked making me lick it clean."

 _Making_. Chibs went cold, arousal gone. "Well, I'm not going to make you do that, boy. You can wash your goddamn hands if you like." It wasn't that he didn't want to see Juice licking his palm clean, like a cat in the cream, but the idea of being like all the other men who'd forced Juice to humiliate himself to get themselves off stopped him in his tracks.

Juice seemed uncertain of what to do with that, shoulders tight and hand carefully cupped, crouching still until he came to some internal decision. He rose to his feet and washed his hands in the sink before zipping himself up, eyes on the ground.

"Put together a plate for you?" he asked casually, as if nothing had happened.

Chibs wasn't quite sure where his head was at. Frankly, he wasn't sure what was wrong with the boy in front of him, and whether Juice's specific kind of damage was something Chibs should rehabilitate or run screaming from as far and fast as he could take himself.

"Yeah, sure," Chibs replied, not sure what else to do. "I'm starving."


	9. Chapter 9

Almost every minute of their dinner was maddening.

As if their fooling around had triggered all his worst instincts, Juice became more cautious, more obsequious, as they ate. He asked Chibs before making a plate for himself, wouldn't sit at the table until instructed, waited for Chibs to start eating before he touched his food. He ate slowly, watching Chibs under his eyelashes like a hawk, perpetually ready to refill his beer or his plate. It was nerve-wracking, eyeing him while Juice eyed Chibs in return, the languor of their post-kitchen orgasm being replaced with tension, bit by bit, as both men waited for the other shoe to drop.

Juice stood when he finished eating, and took his plate to the kitchen. When he returned, he bypassed his seat, choosing to kneel instead to the left of Chibs' chair. 

Chibs had never really gone for that crawling, groveling slave crap, though he liked a beautiful body on their knees begging for his cock just as much as the next guy. And he had always liked to travel light, despite having put his roots down in Charming years ago; having some servile shadow follow him as he went on his day to day business was a nuisance, baggage he didn't ever want to carry with him. Even more, with Juice, when every sign pointed to this being a behavior trained into him. He wasn't kneeling to be close or affectionate. Chibs could read all he needed to know through the practiced way Juice sank to the floor, his rigid position, the way his shoulders tensed whenever Chibs moved as if he was bracing himself. 

Thirteen, Chibs thought, when the Mayans first took him in, and someone took it upon themselves to teach him how to be this. And what was worse, what made his stomach turn, was that if Chibs were honest with himself, he had to admit that the lad looked good like this. His cock, having a mind of its own, appreciated the reality of that body close and waiting.

Chibs felt torn, the part of him that wanted to help Juice disconnected from the part that wanted to bend the boy over the dining table, spread him open and push inside. Like he was having an out of body experience, he saw more than felt his hand reach out to rest heavily on the back of Juice's neck. Chibs opened his mouth to tell the boy that he could get off his knees, to go back to his chair and sit, but what came out as he watched the muscles of Juice's shoulders knot themselves up with tension under his hand, was something else.

"Take off your shirt." 

His own voice sounded hoarse, almost foreign, to his ears.

Juice shot him a look before obeying, eyes dark as he stripped off his shirt--Chibs' shirt, he thought with a dry mouth--and folded it beside him. 

Without anything covering him, Chibs could take in all that smooth tan skin, the flat plane of Juice's belly, narrow hips Chibs knew would feel good to wrap his hands around. He admired how fit the boy was. It'd been a long time since Chibs had looked so sleek, a lifestyle of booze and a slowing metabolism making him softer than he'd ever intended to get. His fork was forgotten in his other hand as Chibs ran his hand along the back of Juice's head, tribal tattoos and the edge of hair on his palm. The boy and his complete and utter lack of self-preservation leaned into it, like a dog starved for affection. "That's it," he whispered as Juice turned until his mouth in Chibs' palm, first laying a quiet kiss there before licking up the edge of his wrist. He must have been feeling bold in that moment, because he met Chibs' eyes before taking Chibs' thumb into his mouth, sucking hard, tongue rough against the pad of his finger.

The crux of the problem was that he was weak, Chibs thought. He wanted Juice. He wanted that body underneath him, and that mouth on his dick, and if he were totally honest, the idea of the boy resisting, struggling to get away while he buried himself deep, rode a thin line between revolting and tantalizing. He wondered if he would ever be able to quiet that part of him that didn't care if Juice said no because Juice belonged to him, to the club, and there wasn't a single person who could dispute their claim. 

Chibs watched Juice come off with an audible pop, licking his lips, and thought crazily, he's trying to manipulate me. He wanted to hit the boy, wanted to open his pants and pull Juice's face into his lap, even though he'd already had a go that night. This was Juice's way of trying to use his mouth, his body to turn Chibs against his brothers, having already started poisoning the well between himself and Tig. It wasn't like he didn't know that Tig's overtures were more out of a desire to frequently and conveniently satisfy his libido rather than actively trying to take something Chibs wanted away from him. And Jax had already had to intervene between the two over Juice, as if their VP didn't have enough on his plate with the Mayans and his new kid.

Chibs felt Juice go still as he pulled his hand away, lowering it to wrap around Juice's throat, bare and vulnerable. Juice swallowed hard against him, adam's apple bobbing. The younger man shut his eyes, bracing himself.

"You can do it," he said, voice low. He leaned harder into the curve of Chibs' fingers until he could feel tendons shifting with every minute shift of Juice's body as he knelt, the vibration of his voice when he spoke, the fragile cartilage of of his windpipe. "You can do whatever you want." 

He raised his head to meet Chibs' eyes, something he hadn't done so directly before, and Chibs saw--nothing. No fight in him. There was a resignation Chibs could read in his posture, like he didn't expect Chibs to be any different than all the men before him. The thud of Juice's pulse against his palm combined with the surrender being broadcast from every pore of his body made Chibs want to recoil from himself, from everything he felt on the cusp of doing.

"Go clean up the kitchen," Chibs said finally, and when he pulled his hand back, he could see it was shaking. His dick was hard under the table. "I'll be done in a minute."

Juice didn't say anything before scrambling up to his feet and bolting.


	10. Chapter 10

When he brought his plate into the kitchen only a little while later, Juice turned to him with wide, scared eyes. He put the pot he was holding down on the counter.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked immediately. "I'm sorry. If you didn't like the food-"

"It wasn't you, lad," Chibs said heavily. He'd regretted that moment at the dinner table. It'd been a long time since Chibs had felt up to more than a casual fuck--since Fiona, really. Life with the Sons gave him plenty of pussy but not so much emotional attachment, and the feelings creeping up on him when he was around Juice sat like a stone in his chest, something Chibs didn't want to look too closely at. The expression on Juice's face when he'd wrapped his hand around his throat, that resignation to being hurt, made him uneasy. Chibs was no gentle soul, but that wasn't something he'd had gone in intending to inflict.

The other man was quiet, eyes on the counter in an attempt, Chibs thought, to avoid making eye contact.

"I didn't want you to think--just, in here earlier. I didn't know if you were mad because we didn't fuck," Juice confessed. He bowed his head. "You can. Whenever you like. I wasn't trying to get out of it."

 _Get out of it_ , Chibs repeated in his head, as if Juice looked at sex like something transactional, like keeping the clubhouse clean to cover his room and board. The boy was holding himself upright, rigid, as ready to take a blow and not break position as he was on his knees beside Chibs at the dining table.

"I know," Chibs answered, his voice even in a way his thoughts were not. "I didn't think you were trying to get out of it. I'm just here to help you clean up."

"I got it," Juice said quickly. "I'll be fast." Chibs opened his mouth to object, but Juice finally looked at him. "It's what I'm here for," he said softly. Chibs marveled at how insidious these thoughts were, the things Juice believed about his role in the club, his worth to the other men.

"If we both get it, it'll go even quicker," Chibs replied, and he started putting food away in spite of the boy's protests, hearing when Juice capitulated and started running water in the kitchen sink. They worked in silence, side by side, Juice unsurprisingly finishing faster than Chibs.

"I'll be right back," he said after Chibs firmly deterred his attempts to take over wiping the counter. Chibs heard Juice walk down the hall and the door to his bathroom open and close. Something inside him finally relaxed once Juice was out of the room, the insane mix of feelings--want and protectiveness--receding with distance, none of which were reasonable for him to feel after knowing the boy only for a couple of days. Chibs finished up hanging up the kitchen rags and poured himself a measure of scotch into a glass, which he threw back right away. He poured himself another heavy dram, sipping at this one instead, and wandered out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Leaning up against the wall outside the bathroom door, Chibs could hear Juice moving around inside, rustling, the faucet turning on and off. Juice opened the door, blinking in surprise to find Chibs right outside.

"Hey," he said uncertainly.

"Hey yourself," Chibs replied, wanting to break the tension. Juice was still bare from the waist up, shoulders hunched, his shirt folded somewhere on the floor in the other room.

"Look," he started, his eyes on the ground. "I'm s-"

But Chibs didn't want to think about dinner, about his putting Juice to work in his kitchen, or Juice on his knees by the table, or any of the other questionable things Chibs had done tonight that Juice wanted to profusely apologize for. He reached out, purposefully not questioning his own motivations, and hooked a finger into the waistband of the other man's jeans, reeling him closer until Chibs could meet his mouth.

Juice kissed him back, but his back was rigid, arms stiff at his sides as if he were afraid to make contact. "It's okay," Chibs whispered against his mouth when they finally broke the apart to breathe. The lad didn't say anything in response but when he pulled back, Chibs saw that more than anything, Juice looked--scared. Something twisted in his chest, knowing that he put that fear there.

"Juice, it's okay," he said again, bringing both hands up to cradle Juice's face, cupping his jaw in one palm. He prepared himself mentally to see Juice flinch, watch him wince away from Chibs' touch but instead the other man closed his eyes, leaning into him, pushing his cheek into Chibs' palm. The boy, Chibs thought breathlessly as he stroked his thumb along one cheekbone, didn't have a self-preserving bone in his body.

Juice made a little noise. "Tell me what you want," he whispered. "I'll do it."

And how could Chibs resist that, surrender so easily pulled from him like string from a skein. Some part of Chibs felt so drawn to the other man, a magnet being pulled inexorably forward until he could fit his mouth against Juice's again, insistent and hungry, a hand on his hip to propel them both backwards towards the bedroom. They hit the doorjamb first, unable to maneuver around it at the same time that Chibs was sucking along the tendon of Juice's turned neck, leaving bruised marks that he knew the boy would still have in the light of day.

"Please," Juice said, and Chibs couldn't tell if his face was showing pleasure or pain, eyes clenched shut, face in a grimace.

Chibs forced himself to pause. "Are you with me, lad?" he asked, breathing heavily, and Juice's eyes opened.

"Yes," he said, and moved so their crotches fit together, so that Chibs could feel the hard, hot line of the boy's bulge against his own. He rutted against him like a teenager before slipping his hands down, stopping to squeeze Juice's arse then going lower to grip him around his thighs. Chibs hefted the boy against him and took the final few steps to his bed with Juice's legs wrapped around his waist. He lowered Juice gently to the mattress, stripping his jeans down his legs, barely noticing when Juice raised his own hips to help ease them off. Chibs was so damned hot, heat pouring off his back as he yanked his own shirt off, pushing his pants and underwear down and stepping out of them before going to a knee on the bed. The boy was watching him approach like a deer in the headlights, eyes huge, his breathing quick and nervous.

"I've got you," Chibs said, and Juice didn't resist as Chibs got a hand underneath his knee, pushing it up towards his chest to splay him open. He reached out with his other hand to feel between the lad's cheeks, coaching himself mentally, _slow, slow and gentle_. Juice had enough rough handling tonight, enough in a lifetime, that Chibs didn't want to be another in a long line of men to just push his way in. He was surprised when his hand came into contact with something slick, coming away shining when he lifted it closer to see.

"What's this?" Chibs asked. "Did you do this?"

Juice dropped his gaze, face red. "Yeah," he said softly. "I prepped a little right before. In the bathroom. I hope that's okay."

Chibs felt his dick twitch as he pushed Juice's knee a little higher, opening him up for Chibs' eyes so that he could see where lube was smeared along that hidden crevice in the lad's hurry to prepare himself. Juice was flushed red on his face down through his neck, the edges creeping into his chest. He turned his cheek into the bed as if trying to avoid Chibs' gaze as Chibs coaxed Juice's legs wider, watching the other man's half-hard cock bob against his belly.

Heartbeat thudding in his ears, he pressed Juice's knee to the side, reaching down and feeling for Juice's hole again. It was hot, opening up at his slightest insistence. Chibs groaned, eyes closing, imagining the boy bent over the sink just minutes ago, pushing fingers inside himself, preparing the way for Chibs. He circled that small, wrinkled opening over and over with the pads of his fingers, watching Juice's cock fill out, the plump head flushing as Chibs touched him. When Chibs nudged a single digit in, it sank inside sweetly, the muscle accepting his intrusion without protest. He inserted another alongside it, simultaneously thinking about how the heat gripping his fingers would feel around his cock and trying to calculate the likelihood that he would come all over himself in the next few seconds like a complete fool.

"You can just do it," Juice said, quietly. He turned his face towards Chibs, but his expression was unreadable. "You don't have to open me up."

He wasn't sure what Juice read in his face in response to that, so confident that he was conveying nothing but lust and the desire of sink slowly into the bounty spread out underneath him, but whatever Juice saw tipped them both into the wrong direction. Chibs felt the boy clench around his fingers, staring hard over Chibs' shoulder.

"Unless--was it too much?"

Chibs choked out a confused, "What?", reaching for some way to articulate that this was good, that it was more than he thought he deserved given his behavior. He could see the distress building on Juice's face as he struggled for words, no hiding the worry creeping in, the blush of fear or humiliation.

"I won't use as many fingers next time," Juice said. Again, he felt the boy clench hard around his fingers. "I didn't mean to be loose."

And these words sent him into an emotional tailspin, dizzying in how quickly it sent his blood rushing from arousal to fury. Chibs wanted to put his fist through the wall, and he could feel that inclination spreading across his face before he could compose himself. Catching his expression, Juice misread the anger Chibs could barely keep below the surface as something else entirely. He put his hand over Chibs' where Chibs' hold was still spreading him, gripping it hard.

"Or I won't do it at all," Juice backpedaled, leg twitching like he was trying not to close his knees. He was clearly torn between protecting himself and staying where Chibs wanted him. "I didn't mean to fuck things up." Chibs could see Juice's erection softening, his face frightened as he tried to explain himself.

"I'm not angry with you," Chibs bit out, taking a deep breath, trying to push down his temper down where Juice couldn't see it so readily. He knew he was scaring the boy. Preparing himself when Juice thought that he was going to get fucked was probably habit, a learned behavior because the people who owned him didn't care enough to do it themselves. "You didn't do anything wrong, Juice."

He let go of the boy's leg, watching as Juice curled in on himself as much as he dared, shoulders hunching in, hands clenched. He made a movement to close his legs, though when Chibs looked at him, Juice muttered a quick _sorry_ , letting his knees fall apart again.

"Christ, Juice," Chibs said, a palm on the lad's knee in an attempt to assure him that punishment wasn't imminent. At first Juice stayed tense, surprised at being met with a gentle touch after his perceived mistake, but then he moved closer, laying a hand on Chibs' chest.

"Let me try again," Juice breathed. "I promise I'm tight. I won't screw it up next time."

He skirted his hand between them, palming Chibs' flagging erection. "You can put your fingers in too, if you want. Make it tighter. Finger me and fuck me at the same time." Chibs felt some dark arousal churn inside him at this and he wondered what Juice would do if he slid in one--two fingers, as his dick was stretching Juice open. How many could the boy take alongside his cock, Chibs wondered, before he begged Chibs to stop. Juice must have read the thoughts on his face, because he cupped Chibs' left hand in his, bringing it between his legs.

"You can teach me a lesson," he said with a shaky smile, hand maneuvering to push two of Chibs' fingers inside himself with a deep breath. "Show your slut what happens if I don't prep right." He pushed Chibs' ring finger in quickly, hips canting as he curled Chibs' pinky in and took it inside himself as well. "You can punish me." He didn't break eye contact as he bore down until he was circling Chibs' fingers tightly around the lowest knuckles, letting out a long, shaky exhale.

"That's enough," Chibs said hoarsely, shutting his eyes. Juice froze.

For all that he was trying to convey that he liked it, Chibs could tell that Juice was taking too much too fast, the rim of his hole feeling strained and fragile where it circled his four--Jesus, _four_ \--fingers at the base. He reached out with his other hand, gently encouraging Juice to loosen the death grip he had on Chibs, then carefully extricated his fingers, trying to be gentle where Juice had been so rough with himself. Even then, when he pulled out, Juice's hole looked red and painful, winking against the sudden lack inside it. Chibs' gingerly pushed his thumb against wrinkled skin in what he hoped were soothing circles as Juice squeezed his other hand in his own, looking at Chibs like he was drowning.

"I think we should call it a night," Chibs said.

Panic instantly shone like a beacon across Juice's face. "I'm sorry I fucked up," he started. Chibs shushed him.

"It wasn't you, lad. You didn't do anything wrong. You did good tonight." He moved his hand that was still between Juice's legs away, knocking his knees together until they were closed. Juice's eyes shuttered, chin dropping.

"Let me try again. Please, Chibs." He took a deep, shuddering breath as Chibs shook his head.

After a long moment, he asked, "You want me on the floor?" And when Chibs didn't respond immediately, "-or I can go back to the clubhouse tonight-"

"Jesus Christ, you're not going anywhere," he interrupted, thinking about Juice making the miles-long walk by himself. The boy didn't even have a jacket, and this time of year the temperature dropped drastically at night. "You're staying right here."

"You're sure?" His expression was wary, even after Chibs nodded.

He let Chibs arrange him under the covers, nudging him over onto his side, pulling the sheets under his chin. Juice was quiet and his body was pliant, curling up tighter as Chibs came up behind him, burying his face into the pillow while Chibs fit his body around him, chest to his back. When Chibs wrapped his arm around the boy's midsection, pulling him that last inch closer, he could feel the other man's body shivering, the tiniest hitches of breath. He stilled, appalled, unsure if Juice was crying and afraid to look himself to confirm. "I've got you, lad," he tried to soothe, hand running up and down Juice's side in what he hoped was a comforting motion.

The boy had been through a lot tonight. Chibs had done the bulk of that, and he'd come face to face with a more exhausting reality than he'd prepared himself for. The tinge of fear that overlaid Juice's every decision wasn't completely unexpected, and neither was his incessant desire to please. The Sons had known for a long time that the Mayans' main trade was heroin and hookers, and they ran their street trade less like lackadaisical street pimps and more like an factory, with efficiency and a great deal of expectation. Chibs had believed that their newest possession had likely been spared, and that somehow it would've been a boon for him to be too busy keeping house and serving his owners to be forced to turn tricks on the street. But Chibs was starting to expect that life in the main house wasn't necessarily more charming than life in the field for Juice. The boy had all the hurts of any of the hustlers Chibs had run into in his life, but amplified--an effect, Chibs guessed, that came from his primary clientele not having to pay for the services that they took but still free to punish if they were displeased.

He laid his forehead on Juice's back, resolving to do better by him, this lad who, despite being so sweet and in need of protection, didn't seem to have had anyone looking out for him in a long time.

"You'll be okay," he whispered, "Everything will be okay." Meaningless words against the back of Juice's bowed neck until he felt the other man's breathing even out, unexpectedly falling into an easy sleep himself right beside him. 

+++

Chibs woke up to the smell of food wafting from the kitchen into his bedroom. The bed was cold where Juice had slept last night, sheets wrinkled and unmade. Chibs pushed himself out of bed, brushed his teeth, and wandered out in search of caffeine.

"I made breakfast," Juice said when he noticed Chibs, eyes not quite meeting his. "I hope that's okay." He wordlessly slid over a mug of strong-smelling coffee, followed by sugar, and then a carton of milk.

"Best thing in the world to wake up to," Chibs said curtly, never really at his best in the morning. He watched as Juice slid eggs from the pan onto a plate, putting it in front of Chibs on the counter. When Chibs perched on a stool to eat, he could see the boy's shoulders relax infinitesimally.

Juice putzed around, putting away dishes, wiping down the counter, the stove, and when he started straightening the few cans in the cabinets, Chibs got up with an inward groan.

"Do you need something?" Juice started, watching while Chibs grabbed a plate, scraped what was left of the eggs in the pan into it, and steered the boy into a chair, putting them both down at the table in the living room.

"I need you to relax. I'm not even awake yet. Fucking eat something."

Juice obediently took a bite, and Chibs was surprised to feel something uncoil in his own chest too.

"I'm really sorry about yesterday," Juice said quietly, after they'd been sitting in silence for over a minute. He was staring down at the table hard, as if gathering his eggs onto a fork was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

"It's nothing," Chibs replied gruffly. "You do what you need to do to keep from getting hurt. I understand that, Juice, and I'm not going to hold it against you."

The boy was silent for a moment, before asking in a small voice, "Are we alright?"

Chibs was surprised that he'd been bold enough to voice the concern. He nudged at Juice's knee under the table and the boy looked up at him, startled.

"We're fine, lad. Good even. Now chin up. Nothing quite like starting your morning with a brisk heart to heart." He shot the other man a wry smile, and slowly, cautiously, Juice gave a shy smile in return.

"I'm glad," he said, and he waited as Chibs took another bite, trying to school his face back into neutrality. Chibs couldn't help grinning himself when he saw Juice lose the battle, a small, secret upturn of his lips as he finished the rest of his breakfast.


	11. Chapter 11

It became apparent in the days that followed that Chibs wasn't the only Son looking for a little bit of Juice's time.

He knew what it meant when Clay called the lad into the room after church, trying not to speculate too much on what was going on behind that heavy door. Chibs would notice the boy's mouth on one day, reddened from use, or find Juice buttoning up his jeans as he walked by one of the rooms on another. A few times, he'd caught Juice leaving the kitchen with a fucking cookie in his mouth, Bobby following with a self-satisfied smile plastered on his face.

"What?" he'd asked Chibs with a hearty laugh the first time Chibs gave him a look. "I made him work for it. He's the only one who appreciates my baking."

"That's because you've already turned the rest of us into fat bastards," Chibs had replied, trying to shove aside the part of him that was feeling possessive to just be relieved that someone else was also making sure the boy ate every now and then.

He'd even walked into the bunks at the back of Teller-Morrow once and seen Jax sitting on one of the bed, the bare light illuminating the tail ends of those familiar tribal swirls as they moved over his lap. Chibs had taken a swig out of the beer bottle he'd held in his hand, lingering long enough to see his VP tip his head back, eyes closed, while Juice worked the other man through his orgasm.

Jax had found him the next day in the garage, assessing him shrewdly before sitting beside him on the bench.

"Heard you're kind of sweet on the new guy," he'd drawled, taking a drag off his cigarette.

Chibs scowled. "Not sure where you got that idea from."

Jax shrugged. "He's been doing a good job keeping up with the place," he said with a vague gesture in the direction of the clubhouse. "And he's got some skills in the sack. But Tara's talked me into leaving him alone if I know what's good for me." He winked, his intonation making it clear the latter was a direct quote from the Sons' unofficial doctor.

"Tara?" Chibs repeated, surprised.

"Yeah, she's got some strong opinions about us getting into the people business. I didn't want to mess with that but I told her he's better off staying with us, since anything that lands him back at Alvarez's will be like sending him straight to the slaughterhouse." He looked straight at Chibs, and though he was smiling, his eyes were serious. "I think she gets it. But she also wanted to look him over this week. See if he's doing okay." He paused, looking at Chibs pointedly. "Is Tara going to find anything that's going to upset her?"

Chibs understood now what the other man was getting at. He shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. I'll let Juice know."

Jax nodded and got up. "Make sure the others know, too."

"Aye, boss," he said. Part of him was glad that the boy was getting some medical attention; it was probably stupid that the Sons went to town on him before even having him checked out. Tara, despite being a surgeon, would be able to run the full gamut of tests they'd need to make sure Juice was in good form. He couldn't help the little nigging doubt in the back of his mind, though, about how the doctor would react when she came face to face with with the lad, and what he would say that the Sons had done to him--what Chibs had done to him.

He got his chance to share the news later that week, coming back from a weapons run at the ass crack of dawn, wanting nothing more than to wash the road dirt off himself and crash on the bunk he'd largely claimed as his own. When he walked in, though, the first thing that caught his eye was Juice on his knees, clothing in a pile beside him on the floor, his head bobbing in Tig's lap as the other man sat on one of the few chairs they kept in the bunk room.

"You still hard, boy," he heard Tig ask. The older man pushed Juice off his dick with an obscene, slurping sound. "I don't think you're enjoying this as much as you should be."

"I'm sorry," Juice panted. "I am."

"Jack yourself off," he ordered, body moving forward to watch Juice wrap his hand around his cock, stroking until he was stiff again. "That's good," Tig murmured, leaning back and pumping his own cock slowly. Chibs fidgeted, feeling himself getting hard too, uncomfortable in his jeans where he hovered near the door. "Now play with your tits. Tell me how much you love my cock."

Juice obeyed. "I love your big dick," he groaned, hands going to his chest, pinching and twisting his nipples. "Thank you for letting me suck it." Chibs remembered how the boy had frozen under his hands when he'd first touched them, unable to stop the faint tinge of jealousy, and still somehow torn between wanting to wrap his hand around his own cock, tight in its confines, and not necessarily wanting to see where this was leading.

"Yeah," he watched his brother moan, fist moving furiously. "Say you're my bitch."

"I'm your bitch," Juice repeated, "I love when you fuck my mouth." And then he moved forward at Tig's gesture, bending down to take him back in, the sound of his mouth between Tig's legs loud and wet. His hands were still moving at his chest.

"You want in on this, brother?"

Tig was speaking to him, Chibs realized. He could see Juice's body tense, not realizing he had an audience. "I had him finger himself earlier. He'll be totally open for you."

The idea of walking over there, of pulling Juice up by his hips and sinking his thumb into that sweet, tight hole before pushing his dick inside Juice made him ache. He imagined Juice moaning as Chibs fit two fingers inside him, scissoring, opening him up for Chibs' cock, but was shaken out of his trance by the sound of Juice gagging. Tig had a hand on the back of his head, pushing him down deep enough that Chibs could see the boy choke.

"Take it all," Tig hissed, and Juice braced himself against the chair, fingers white where they gripped the arms, trying to force his throat to relax.

"Maybe go easy on him, brother," Chibs growled.

"Little bitch likes it," Tig said. He pulled the boy up by his ears, and Chibs could see tears on his face. "Don't you like gagging on my cock?"

Juice nodded as his chest heaved for air. His face was red.

"Say it."

"I like gagging on your cock, Tig." His voice was hoarse and pained.

Tig rubbed the head of his prick against Juice's lips, his cheeks, smearing spit and precome while the lad tried to catch his breath. "And do you want Chibs to fuck you while you gag on my cock? Why don't you tell him how much you want it."

"I want it really bad, Chibs. Please fuck me." But Juice's face was bright red now, his eyes wet and humiliated.

"What a little slut," Tig murmured, and pulled Juice's head back down to his lap, where he resumed his duties.

"Either join in or get out," Tig said, eyes closed.

Chibs gritted his teeth, wanting to put his fist through the wall. "You should know that Tara's coming to look over the boy," he said, hearing the sharpness in his own voice. "Jax doesn't want her to find anything that might upset her."

Tig bared his teeth at him in some semblance of a grin. "You worried I'm treating Juice badly?" Chibs saw the lad tense up from his position on his knees. "I'm not going to hurt a hair on his pretty little head. Tara's going to find him as fresh and tight as a daisy, isn't she?" He stroked a hand down Juice's jaw, and something twisted inside Chibs to see the boy close his eyes, leaning into it. Was there even a difference, he wondered, between his touch and Tig's to someone like Juice.

"You know what," his brother said with a smirk, standing up abruptly. Juice struggled to follow, bracing himself of Tig's thighs, and just as he came to his feet Tig pushed him towards Chibs' bunk. He followed Juice as the boy stumbled into the edge of the mattress, bending him over the bedsheets and holding him still with a hand to the back of his neck. "Now that I think of it, it's not so important to the good doctor that he's tight, is it?" He kicked Juice's ankles apart.

Chibs looked at him stonily, not responding.

"What a good boy you are," Tig muttered, sliding his hand down Juice's bowed back, but his eyes were on Chibs, mocking, as he took himself in hand. Juice muffled a groan against his forearms as Tig pushed into him, slowly splitting him open.

That's enough, Chibs thought. He threw his bag down on the floor just as Tig wrapped his hands around Juice's hips, pulling the other man closer and beginning to thrust. Chibs left the room with the sound of skin slapping against skin, Tig's curses and Juice's low moans echoing in his ears.


	12. Chapter 12

Opie found him at the bar of the clubhouse, working his way through a bottle of Jack like he'd been given a mission to get to the bottom of it.

"Whoa there, brother," he said with a laugh at the look Chibs shot him. "Rough run?"

"No, everything went as planned." Chibs grabbed a glass and sloshed some whiskey in for his brother.

"Something else getting to you then?" the other man asked. His face was serious.

Chibs sighed. Opie had always been a staid, calm presence in the club, and even his recent five year stint at Chino hadn't changed that much. He'd seen Opie and Jax grow up from boys into peers, watched them earn their patches time and time again, the MC seemingly in their blood from the day they were born, but even then it felt painfully awkward trying to open up, even to someone he considered to be his brother.

"It's nothing you need to burden yourself with," he tried to assure the other man, but Opie just nodded his head, sitting down beside him.

"Tig was having a go at that new boy in the back. It have anything to do with that?"

Chibs cracked a grin, wondering if it looked as much like a grimace as it felt from the inside. "Juice is first come, first serve, Ope. Nothing there for me to get upset about."

Opie stared at him hard, but he'd been through more than enough than to break under the weight of an unforgiving look. He looked back balefully, knowing that it was unfair to throw all of this at Opie. But at the same time, he knew that Tig was just on the other side of the far wall, finishing himself off inside someone Chibs was starting to feel foolishly possessive over. The boy wasn't his to covet, but his emotions were riding roughshod over everything he'd ever thought or felt about sharing with his brothers.

They were silent, Chibs swallowing against his glass, a familiar burn along his throat.

"I know what it's like," Opie said finally, "to try and figure out what belongs to the club and what doesn't." Chibs snorted at that, but Opie drove on. "And trying to figure out how to walk that line without ruining what's on either side." He raised his glass, tipping it all back in one motion. "It seems like you think you can't trust us to help you figure this out. Or that you think we can't help you the way you need. But we're your brothers, Chibs--if you strand yourself out there without us, how are we supposed to be able to have your back when you need it?"

Chibs sighed. "I know, Ope. Don't worry about me. Let me be just another morose Scotsman drinking your bar dry tonight."

Opie clapped him hard on the shoulder, and just as he opened his mouth to say something, a door in the back slammed open with a loud noise. Tig strolled into the room, a spring in his step and a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hello boys." He grabbed a bottle from behind the bar, pouring himself a shot and downing it. He raised an eyebrow in Opie and Chibs' direction, gesturing with the bottle in a silent question and when they shook their heads he shrugged, helping himself to another. He slid into a stool beside Opie, smug and loose-limbed. "Ope, I have to tell you, that little Puerto Rican sure is something else." Chibs felt all the alcohol he'd consumed rushing to his head as he closed his eyes, remembering the wet, lurid sound of Juice's mouth around Tig's cock just a little while earlier.

"Not surprised," Opie responded with an amused smile. "Seems like you can't get enough of him."

Tig laughed, adjusting himself in his pants. "I've got a weakness for anything brown and tight." He turned to Chibs. "You know, you were feeling a little shy, earlier, but if you want him for the rest of the night, Chibbie, I'm done. You can have him all to yourself."

"So sweet of you to share your leftovers," Chibs said, then instantly regretted it, feeling like an arsehole for putting Juice down. He needed to figure this out and fast instead of lashing out at the people around him. Juice's role wasn't going to change, and Tig still sat to Clay's right at the table. He wouldn't be doing himself any good earning ire from all sides.

For all Chibs' angsting, Tig didn't even notice his tone. "You know me, always looking out for a brother." He slapped Chibs hard on the back, leaning over to pour two fingers of liquor from his bottle into Chibs' mostly empty cup, laughing at the face Chibs made at the tequila mixing with the dregs of his whiskey.

"Drink up," Tig bellowed, and Chibs grudgingly raised his glass, clinking it against the rim of Tig's bottle before taking a swig with a scowl.

"You're as nasty as this brew," he said, but he couldn't help grinning back at Tig's smirk.

As he tipped back the alcoholic mixture, Chibs caught a motion across the room from the corner of his eye and saw Juice slip out of the bunk room and into the bedroom with the shower. Gulping down his glass and coughing as it burned against his throat, he stood to follow the boy, wanting to talk.

"Hey," Chibs said, stepping in and pulling the door closed behind him. He froze when Juice spun around, something clutched in his other hand.

"I didn't hear you," he croaked, his voice wrecked. Chibs remembered how rough Tig had been earlier, and how Juice had gagged trying to take him in. "I'm sorry. If you need the room--"

"You're fine," Chibs said. "What have you got there?"

Juice turned red. "It's--I-" he stuttered, and Chibs could see it now, a tube rubber-banded at the base to a water bottle, and it dawned on him just as Juice said, "I didn't know--if you wanted me right after, I needed to be ready." He fidgeted, apprehensive, and Chibs thought about how that the boy, as he was being fucked by Tig, was already anticipating being used by Chibs right after and wondering how to prepare himself in between.

"Please don't be mad." Juice's voice was tight with worry. "I was trying to get clean for you. I can go back to the bed instead. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Why would I be mad," Chibs said gruffly. He laid his hand on the back of Juice's neck, not sure what to say, how to say how sorry he was that he'd walked in on the boy servicing Tig earlier and that he'd been angry and turned on instead of any emotion that would've helped the situation. "I'm sorry," he tried, "about before."

"It's nothing," Juice said. "I didn't mean to make you wait. Or share."

He seemed so wary, looking away from Chibs, fingers tugging at a hole on the edge of his t-shirt, that Chibs moved to reassure him, sidling closer and tilting his head for a kiss. He was surprised when Juice flinched away.

"I haven't--I'm not saying no to you." The boy was nervous, a tremor in his voice. "I was just going to brush my teeth first."

Chibs felt stupid once he realized the implication. "It's fine," he said, stroking down the boy's shoulder, trying to calm him, but Juice shook his head.

"If you go back to the room, I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes and I'll be ready for you." Juice's hands were nervous, fists clenching and unclenching until he folded his arms tight against himself. Chibs reeled him in and pressed a small kiss against his temple.

"Just breathe," he said, hearing Juice take in a slow, shaky breath, obedient even now. "I'll wait in the room. No one's angry. Do what you have to do, and then come find me."

When he pulled back, Juice's face was uncertain, like a man expecting the ground to shift under his feet at any moment. "Okay," he said, voice small.

It was hard not to stay and watch Juice undress, to touch all that wet, smooth skin, to see him fill himself with water and wash away all the marks that other men had left on him. Instead, Chibs steeled himself, turned around and walked away, hoping that in some time Juice would follow.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This playground is officially open! 
> 
> If you haven't read it yet, check out [Sanidine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sanidine/pseuds/sanidine)'s heartbreaker of a story from Juice's POV in this universe: [Can't Erase](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3198602) . I've avoided writing anything from Juice's perspective so far thinking that I'd loop back at some point, mostly worried that I would overdo all the angst. Sanidine's take balances that tone perfectly. Definitely worth a read.

Chibs was uncomfortably aware of the half-chub trapped in his pants. Someone--he assumed Juice--had changed the bedding on the bunk he normally slept on, and though he was pretty sure he knew the reason why, Chibs sighed happily as he laid down on fresh sheets, having had just enough alcohol that the room was hazy at the corners. And true to his word, it was probably less than ten minutes before Juice showed up, though Chibs had very little inclination to count.

Juice entered the room in a rush, locking the door and immediately wrenching his shirt over his head. His hands were working at the button of his jeans before Chibs had a chance to speak.

"Hey," he called out twice before the lad darted his eyes upwards. "What's the rush?"

"I didn't want you to think I was taking too long," Juice blurted out, and then shut his mouth with an audible click. "Sorry," he said, breathing deeply. "I can go slow if you want me to go slow." He lowered his hand, thumb catching on the muscles of of his stomach, popping open a button before pushing his jeans down his thighs and stroking over himself.

"Is this good?" he asked, rubbing in slow circles where his prick was beginning to tent the cotton. Chibs let his own hand drift downwards as Juice hooked the elastic of his briefs under his balls, cradling his cock in his palm. "It was hard to wait for you," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I'm glad you still want to fuck me." He bit his lip and continued stroking himself until he was leaking, shiny smears against his fingers.

Chibs knew those little sighs, Juice's eyelids drifting closed, were all for show but he couldn't bring himself to look away. "Harder," he growled, and Juice's whole body shuddered as he pressed his thumb against the head of his dick, rough friction against over-sensitive skin making his hips flinch away from his own ministrations.

"It's too much," Juice whispered, opening his eyes to beg Chibs even as he pinched and stroked cruelly at himself.

It wasn't that he believed Juice's refractory period couldn't be that short. The lad was no older than his twenties and Chibs remembered how he was at that age. But what didn't sit right was the idea that Juice, having been so afraid only minutes ago, had anything getting him back in the mood but the impetus to perform when his owners wanted him. Chibs thought perhaps he'd given the boy enough of that in their short time together--tonight, he was going to try to make this good for Juice, coax some pleasure from him genuinely.

"That's it, boy," Chibs said, pulling Juice's wrist away from himself, then pulling him bodily into the bed, pausing to let him kick jeans and underwear down his ankles. "You're so good for me."

Juice's eyes widened at that, and he moved closer, knees on either side of Chibs' thighs. "Tell me what you want," he said as he undid Chibs' belt. Juice's dick was jutting out, hard and eager, and Chibs wrapped his hand around it, pumping once from base to tip just to see the boy shiver in his lap.

"Are you ready for me?" Chibs asked, letting his other hand drift further back between the lad's legs, feeling the tackiness of lube. Juice nodded as he carefully extracted Chibs from his pants. The warm, calloused hand that wrapped around his dick drew a groan from his mouth that was much louder than Juice's murmured litany--"Please, Chibs, please fuck me"--as he stroked Chibs firmly.

Juice arched his back as Chibs capitulated, pushing in one finger inside of him, then two. "I used just a little this time," he gasped, his eyes searching Chibs' face for something, anger or pleasure. He froze as Chibs found that chestnut-sized bump inside him, grazing over it, making a little sound unlike any Chibs had heard from him before. The lad bit his lip hard, no longer moving for show as his hips bucked against the sensation. A low moan escaped his mouth as his hands dropped from Chibs' cock, curling into white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets.

Chibs continued to move his hand along the shaft of Juice's cock while the other gently probed that spot inside the lad and soon Juice was gasping, caught between the dual sources of pleasure. He went easily when Chibs extracted his fingers, rolling onto his stomach and opening his knees while Chibs took off his pants, hearing them fall from the bed to the floor.

"Ready?" he asked as he straddled Juice, gripping himself at the base of his cock, head against Juice's hole. At the boy's nod, Chibs pushed in steadily, groaning as Juice surrounded his dick, a warm clench just slick enough where he'd prepared the way. As Chibs sank deeper, he saw a little frown of concentration appear on Juice's brow even from his angle. "Is this okay?" he asked, and Juice nodded, eyes squeezed shut.

Chibs began to move, and with every movement the lad gasped, body rocking with Chibs' thrusts. It was unbelievable how tight Juice still was, hot like sin and moving so sweetly underneath him. He curled over to mouth at the boy's shoulder, his neck, tasting salt, fighting the urge to set his teeth into brown skin and mark the boy in a way that wouldn't disappear right after the night was over. Wanting to make sure Juice felt good too, Chibs reached down to find his cock, to jack him off to the same rhythm, and was surprised to feel the lad's hand already there, unmoving. Chibs traced his fingers until his mind registered the tightness of Juice's grip, twisting his torso around to see where Juice was squeezing himself painfully, digging a thumbnail into his slit, his face still with concentration.

"What the hell," Chibs shouted, "What are you doing?" Chibs pulled out suddenly enough that he wrenched a little cry from the lad underneath him as he backed away.

Juice cowered from Chibs. "Sorry," he pleaded, that hated word.

"Why are you hurting yourself?" He grabbed Juice's bicep, feeling the boy flinch and still wanting to shake some sense into him. "Answer me!" Chibs snarled.

"I was trying to make myself tighter." The fear was naked on his face. "Tig just had me. This way it'll still feel like you were the first tonight."

"Jesus Christ," Chibs muttered, dropping the boy's arm and wondering how this had gone so wrong. When he finally glanced up, Juice was crouched over on the bed, looking as if he were trying to make himself as small a target as possible.

"I didn't mean to mess up," he said finally. "Let me suck you off instead. I'm sorry I fucked up." He made a forward motion, mouth grazing Chibs' dick, ready to give Chibs head even though he'd just been inside Juice seconds ago. It was Chibs' turn to flinch.

"Juice, stop," he hissed, backing away.

Juice was frozen for a second before he slid off the bed and onto the floor. Chibs didn't understand what the boy was doing, rooting around on the carpet and in their clothes until he came up clutching Chibs' belt. He offered it up with both hands, his face tight with the anticipation of punishment, and Chibs felt sick knowing that he was the cause of that expression. It was a look that he'd caused more than any of his brothers since the boy had come to Teller-Morrow.

"I'm not going to beat you," he said slowly, not missing how Juice's hands shook as he approached.

"I have to make it right." Juice swallowed hard. "I keep fucking up. I have to learn."

"Boy, that's nothing a belt will fix."

"You're mad. I deserve it." His eyes were wet.

Chibs had taken a licking from his old man enough times growing up that he knew exactly what it would feel like. He couldn't imagine himself using a belt on Juice, hitting the boy and watching welts and bruises bloom across his skin in order to mollify his own anger. The kid had already been trying to prove so insistently with his body--his mouth, his arse--his obedience, his every move that he was worth keeping, and Chibs couldn't envision answering that with punishment.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated. Juice's gaze followed the leather, eyes desperate, as Chibs took it from his hands, placing it on the ground next to him. He gathered Juice close, feeling the lad's whole body tense up like a bow.

"I don't know what to do," Juice whispered.

"How about you stop thinking about how to please me," Chibs responded softly, "and you let me take care of you."

The boy's face twisted.

"No," Chibs amended. "No punishment, no pain. I'm going to make you feel good." Juice turned his face up towards Chibs, bruised gaze trying to figure out his endgame, and he caught the lad's lips with his own in a rough kiss. "Can you do that?" he asked when they parted. "Tell me what feels good to you?"

"Yeah, Chibs," Juice said, confusion on his face. "Whatever you want."

Chibs stood up, leading the lad off the floor and to the bed by his hand. Juice leaned back onto the mattress readily, but his eyes were nervous, flitting from Chibs' chest as he moved onto the bed over him, to Chibs' face, and then away as if afraid of what he might find there.

"Are you going to let me take care of you?" Chibs asked, though he realized the question was unfair. The last thing Juice would do is say no--he wasn't even sure the word was in the boy's vocabulary.

Juice's eyes darted back to him. "Yes, please--I'm ready. Fuck me, please fuck me, Chibs--"

"No, no, not like that," he tried to soothe. He put his hand under Juice's knee, lifting his leg up and feeling the boy curl it around his hip as Chibs leaned down to nuzzle at his neck. The smell of the younger man, the feel of his skin under Chibs' mouth, the movement of his breathing when Chibs sucked gently at his collarbone, all of it together was already making him hard again. He pushed forward, seeking between Juice's legs, the both of them gasping as the head of his cock caught on the rim of the lad's hole. He looked down at Juice underneath him; his eyes were clenched shut.

"Let me see you," Chibs prodded. And then he was sinking into Juice in small increments, going as slow as he could though the boy was welcoming him readily.

The lad's eyes flew open. "Please," Juice panted, "please," and he must've been wary of asking for his own pleasure directly, but Chibs understood. He began to move with more strength. Working himself up to a proper rhythm, sliding in and out, he tightened his fists in the bed sheets, hips thrusting to the cadence of Juice's whimpers. The hot, little noises that dripped from his mouth, soft and vulnerable as Juice opened up under Chibs, were driving him crazy. And Chibs was already feeling the burn of pleasure collecting low in his stomach and in the small of his back. He changed his angle, seeking, and knew he found what he was looking for when the lad's body locked up, a wild moan escaping before he could bite it back.

"M-more," he begged. "More, please." Chibs kept moving so that he would brush by the lad's prostate with each stroke. When he looked down next, Juice was leaking against his stomach. He bucked, crying out when Chibs swiped his thumb against the head of his dick, swollen red, almost purple.

"Are you close?" he whispered into Juice's ear, grinding his hips in small circles against the boy.

Juice nodded, and Chibs could feel him clenching down tightly, milking Chibs' cock with his muscles. "I can stop," he said suddenly, eyes wide. "I can hold off until you tell me to. I won't come without permission."

Chibs leaned over and captured the lad's mouth, sucking hard at his lips, his tongue. "You can come whenever you like," he growled. And he started up again, moving against that sensitive spot, pulling out until the head of his cock was barely in Juice's rim, and then pumping in until he was balls deep. Chibs crowded close to Juice, caging him in with his limbs, and the lad grabbed onto Chibs' wrists on either side of his head to brace himself as Chibs drove into him again and again.

"Chibs," he whispered, back arching against the sensation, and Chibs couldn't help but lean down and taste the sweat dotting his chest, closing his mouth over one tight, brown nipple and sucking hard. Juice's reaction was electric, grip tightening like irons around Chibs' wrists as he writhed against him. He looked down to see Juice coming, white streaks pooling on his belly.

Chibs murmured the boy's name over and over as he sped up, looking at Juice's open, panting mouth, his flushed face slack with pleasure. "Stay with me," he said, feeling the slow build at the base of his spine. Juice braced himself against the bed so that he could rock back onto Chibs' dick, taking him in deeper, and then Chibs could only thrust into that hot clench once, twice more before it hit him like a mack truck, body frozen and eyes squeezed shut as waves of pleasure stole his breath away.

Afterwards, he was drained in more ways than one, rolling off to the side so he didn't crush Juice into the mattress. The lad looked boneless on the other side of him, exhausted, his eyelids drooping, and when he made a noise about getting up to clean them off, Chibs shushed him, pulling him back down and coaxing him under the sheets.

"You did so good," he praised when Juice blinked up at him, drowsy. At the smallest uplift of his mouth, Chibs kissed him, trailing from his lips to the corner of his mouth, his cheeks, his closed eyes, before tucking Juice's head under his chin and holding on tight.

+++

When Chibs woke up, he blinked open bleary eyes to find Juice watching him from the other side of the bed.

"What?" he murmured, turning onto his side, but Juice was already shifting down the mattress, a hand on Chibs' hip.

"Come back up here," he said, stopping the lad's movement. When he looked down, Juice's eyes were wide, but he pushed himself back up to the head of the bed.

"I meant to wake you up like that," he said, a nervous note in his voice.

"I know." Chibs wanted to close his eyes again, catch what little more sleep he could. "You did fine last night. No need to go again."

Juice was silent, his brows furrowed. "Out with it," Chibs grumbled.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Something in Chibs' chest twisted to hear the confusion in Juice's voice. "If it's because you wanna do rough stuff, we can. You don't have to butter me up."

"Your rough stuff last night was a little too much for me."

Juice stiffened. "I won't do it again," he said finally, in a subdued voice. "You choose what happens, I don't. I get that now."

"That's not it," Chibs started and then sighed. "Don't you see--I'm not doing anything especially nice, Juicy." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know if you've noticed how much I keep fucking this up, but I really am trying to be good to you. And that's fucking difficult because I'm not a particularly good man."

"You don't have to be good to me," Juice said. Chibs turned to him, and the look on the lad's face was heartbreaking.

"No one has to be good to anyone. And you got the short end of the stick, Juicy.  We've been pretty shite at keeping you well."

The lad looked away and shrugged. "I got clothes and food. You let me sleep in your bed. That's all pretty great. I can't even--I don't know how I can begin to pay you back." There was that note of worry again, creeping into his voice. "I'm sorry I keep fucking up. I'll figure it out, I promise." He was quiet for a moment before saying carefully, "When Marcus and the others got pissed off, I'd know right away. It'd hurt, but I'd learn. You've been so nice to me, but it might go faster if--"

"I'm not going to beat you," he said, he hoped with finality. "You've got to know that's not the way of things with us." He reached out to where Juice's fist lay, clenched, on the bed, slowly coaxing his fingers open and then against his own. It was sappy shit, holding hands in bed like teenagers, like he had with Fiona, but when Juice's hand tightened around his, it felt good. Right, even. "You got your head on straight now?" Chibs asked, even though he could hardly explain to himself what he was doing.

Juice raised his eyes from where their fingers were intertwined. "Yeah, I think so, Chibs." He brought his head down, pressing his mouth quickly to Chibs' knuckles. "I've been slow, but I'll learn what you like. I'll do it right from now on." His expression was determined.

Looking down at the lad, Chibs couldn't find it in his heart to say that wasn't what he'd meant at all.


	14. Chapter 14

Tara's impending visit to Teller-Morrow lay like a heavy load on Chibs' shoulders. He'd done as much as Jax had asked over the days in between: watched that none of the others roughed Juice up too much, made sure the lad ate at every meal. Chibs had been especially successful with the latter, having fattened the boy up from that hunted leanness he'd been sporting since the Sons took him in. But the sum of his worrying made Chibs feel like a mother hen, a role that chafed uncomfortably with how he thought of himself at Teller-Morrow and with the other Sons.

"What," Chibs snarled when he'd put a plate of Juice's own chicken and rice in front of the lad on the bar, on guard at the way he looked at it. Juice's shoulders were tense, eyes on the the offering like it was a trap.

"Just--" Juice started, laying his hands down on the table, flat and cautious. "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean am I sure? Would I put the damned thing in front of you otherwise?" Chibs realized his mistake when the lad's face went carefully blank, wiped clean of any reaction that might earn him more ire.

He had been stupid, unthinking. Of course an easy way for the Mayans to keep their chattel in line would be to control their food. Juice hadn't been gaunt when the Sons had acquired him, but he'd shown--still showed, Chibs corrected himself--all the markings of having had his hunger used against him, of having food be a test or a path to punishment. The lad's silence said enough.

"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant," Chibs sighed. "I'm a fucking arsehole. Come eat, lad, I promise you I don't mean you any harm."

Juice wasn't letting a single expression betray his emotions. "I'm taking a lot. Don't want to be greedy."

The lad was careful not to meet Chibs gaze, not to look at the plate in front of him as if he might not even have a right to want it. And Chibs thought back to the last few meals they'd had together; at first, Juice had readily eaten what Chibs handed off, but then he'd slowed, waiting for a nod or for Chibs to take the first bite before partaking himself. Soon after, Juice had developed a habit of not touching the plate in front of him until Chibs told him explicitly to take it, not eating until Chibs affirmed that he could start.

"It's just food, Juicy. No strings attached."

"I wanna do the right thing," the boy said slowly. Chibs prodded the Juice's chin up with one hand, and when the lad's eyes finally met his they were pleading. "I can do okay with less."

"This isn't a test. I'm not going to hurt you if you eat."

He watched Juice stare first at him and then down at the plate, assessing, surely wondering what this plate was going to cost him. The lad pushed a piece of chicken onto the prongs of his fork, weighing it carefully on the metal, as Chibs considered that he might have to explicitly order the lad to start eating.

"I'll go the whole week without if you want me to," Juice said finally, and then he took a bite. It felt like the smallest victory.

"There are a lot of things I can't promise you, lad," Chibs vowed, heart aching. "But I won't starve you. There will always be a meal for you here." Juice's hands stilled where they were holding the fork and plate, and when he looked up at Chibs' face it felt like he was searching for a cue for what he should do next, some hint of how Chibs' wanted him to react to that information. Chibs felt something wither in his chest when the lad smiled wide, too wide, the expression falling just short of his eyes.

"Okay," he answered simply, and Chibs imagined how many other times Juice had been assured the same thing: food in exchange for obedience, for sex or acquiescence to any number of things his owners asked of him, and how many times that promise had been broken just as easily. He couldn't even consider the careful calculations the lad must be making, balancing his safety and hunger against the expectations of the club, wondering if he'd earned enough through fucking and cleaning up their messes that he could ask for food. Or what would happen if he found himself in a deficit of goodwill and how he would pay for that mistake. Chibs was at a loss for what he could do to prove that he was any different than any of the other men who'd forced Juice into this calculus, so he said nothing and let the lad eat.

When Juice finished, scraping his plate clean and washing up after himself immediately, he came back to where Chibs sat brooding on his stool, going to his knees like it was the easiest thing on earth to do, like he was made to kneel for men like Chibs. "I was going to clean up in here. I think it's been awhile since the floors were done, but if you want a quickie before--"

"We've got someone coming to see you in a bit," Chibs said, uncomfortable. He realized that no one had told the boy about Tara's visit. "Just to check you out."

If it wasn't for the clenching of Juice's hands, Chibs would have thought the lad had turned to stone, the way he suddenly stopped moving, stopped breathing.

"No, lad, it's not for--the club just wants to make sure you're okay. Healthy." Chibs braced himself. "Are you, um, clean? If you need to be examined." Chibs grimaced internally at his own stuttering.

Juice nodded with a marionette-like motion. "I'm clean," he whispered. "I'm healthy. I'm sorry I complained. It won't happen again."

"It's not like that," Chibs grimaced, but he could tell when the lad ducked his head that Juice was scrambling to think of something else to say that could appease. "Just go fucking mop or whatever you were going to do until I come get you."

"Yes, sir. Chibs." He corrected himself with a fearful upward glance. "If you want anything--if I can do anything." Juice swallowed hard.

"This isn't a punishment," Chibs tried. "We're not going to sell you, lad." Juice nodded stiffly, one hand gripping the other and it didn't sit well when Chibs walked away knowing the boy didn't believe him.

The feeling didn't abate as he went through his duties at the garage, checking the schedule and letting Gemma know what cars were ready for pickup that day. Chibs worked mindlessly until his phone buzzed while he was wiping his hands clean on a rag. _Tara's here where the fuck are you_ it read, and he began to shore himself up inwardly as he stepped out of his coveralls.

"Come on, Juicy," Chibs called out as he entered the clubhouse, grabbing the boy by the shoulder when he appeared and pushing him towards the larger room that Clay and Gemma or Tara and the boys shared whenever they stayed overnight at Teller-Morrow. Juice walked along with more resistance than Chibs had ever seen in the lad, his steps leaden, though never slow enough to be called disobedient. Juice stopped as soon as he realized Tara was in the room, only halfway through the door and staring at her like a deer in the headlights. "Go on, boy," Chibs tried, nudging him forward, even as the lad crossed his arms tightly across his chest, taking reluctant steps until he was just barely across the threshold of the room.

From what Chibs could see, Tara looked small, harmless, her hands holding a bag beside her that Chibs suspected contained medical supplies. Yet clearly the lad knew she was Jax's old lady and understood what that meant about her place in the MC; what she could have done to him along with it. His apprehension showed in his body language, the way Juice kept his entire body turned, afraid to face her, his gaze never turning to her direction after his initial recognition as if he could be accused of disrespect for even laying eyes on her.

"Does Jax know?" Juice whispered urgently. "I can't do this if he doesn't know. He'll kill me."

"You're not doing anything wrong." Chibs tried to reassure him, though he knew his assurances were falling on deaf ears. Juice had no reason to believe that anything good would come out of him stepping into that doorway, nothing but the threat of Chibs behind him to keep him moving forward. "Tara's a doctor. She just wants to take a look at you. Not like that," he amended swiftly at Juice's panicked glance. "No one's selling you. No one's fucking you. We're just here to give you a checkup."

The boy's anxiety was visible, his breath coming quick and nervous as Tara set down her bag of supplies.

She spoke up from the other side of the room. "You probably know who I am, Juice. I work at St. Thomas Hospital. Been there a couple years now." She began pulling her hair back, out of her face and up into a ponytail. "When I heard that the boys brought someone new to Teller-Morrow, I told them I wanted to take a look at you and make sure you were healthy." Though she wasn't in her scrubs, Chibs could see her demeanor change into something different than the Tara he knew from her time around the clubhouse. Less Jax's girlfriend or the mother of his child and more the woman who sometimes stitched them up or set their broken bones.

"I'm a doctor, Juice. Do you know what that means?" She smiled kindly when Juice shook his head. "It means you can talk to me. Anything you tell me doesn't leave this room."

Hearing this made the lad more tense, his unease more than evident. Juice flicked his eyes up at Chibs then towards Tara before looking back down to the ground. He went slowly to his knees.

"Clay told me you came from the Mayans. Is that right?" Tara asked as she came closer and crouched beside him.

"Yes, ma'am." Juice's voice was barely above a whisper. The lad's shoulders were up near his ears, hunched up like he he could will himself out of this situation by desire alone.

"And I heard they didn't treat you so gently before you came here. Is there anything you need to tell me before I start? Anything that I should know beforehand or take a look at right away?"

The lad looked like he was going to be sick. "I don't have a provenance--"

"That's okay. Whatever you know, and I can try to figure out the rest," Tara assured him.

Juice's hand trembled as wrapped his hand around his ankle. "This got broken pretty bad last year," and then he gestured at his right shoulder,"--and my arm a couple times. It dislocates easy." He paused a moment. "I got scars on my back, but they don't get in the way." Juice took a quick breath, visibly steeling himself. "I know I didn't cost, ma'am, but I swear I can work hard, and I don't need much--" His voice broke.

"Hey," Tara moved forward, trying to soothe him, and Chibs saw the moment it went wrong, when Tara moved in, her hands reaching out to comfort. The lad saw the contact coming and ducked, cowering away before he could catch himself. He looked up at Chibs in horror.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry," he begged, spreading his knees, one hand moving to hitch up his shirt, the other resting on the waist of his pants. "Sh-should I--I'll take it off."

"It's okay, lad," Chibs broke in but Tara cut him off. He could see her eyes were on Juice as he offered to disrobe himself for punishment.

"Chibs, can I speak to you outside?" Her voice was tight, even as she gave Juice a small smile. "It'll just be a second. We'll be right outside the door."

Chibs coughed, knowing he was going to get the third degree as soon as he stepped away but following Tara gamely into the hallway. As soon as the door was closed, he tried to speak. "Now, doc, you've got to remember--"

"What do I have to remember, Chibs?" Her tone was scathing as she backed him up against the wall. "Are you telling me how to do my job? Or just advising me on how to treat your property?"

"It wasn't my call to keep him, Tara. And we didn't exactly go in there asking for him."

"But here he is anyway, and he's clearly fucking terrified."

"That wasn't us," Chibs insisted, even though he knew that wasn't the whole truth. "If you think on what the Mayans did to him, believe me, his life is a breeze now. It's not like we're peddling his arse on the streets."

"Jesus christ," Tara hissed, looking disgusted.

"Look, I want to help him. And I'm doing the best that I can. We have him now, and the only thing you or I can do is try to make things better for him here." Chibs meant this too. He knew deep in his guts that while he couldn't take away the worst that had been done to the lad, he could help make things easier from here on out. And he was going to start by getting the doc to look over the boy since all signs pointed to Juice's physical welfare being low on the Mayans' list of concerns. Low on the Sons' list as well, if he were honest with himself about his brothers' priorities.

Tara's jaw was clenched, and if she'd been a Son he'd be wary of her throwing a punch; she was angrier than Chibs had ever seen her, more than when she was digging bullets out of the them. He wondered for a second what Jax would let him do if it came to blows, inwardly relieved when she took a deep breath and backed a step away, her face remaining steely.

As she pushed past Chibs back into the room, Chibs turned in time to catch Juice jerking his gaze back to the floor, having clearly been staring at the door they'd gone through. Tara's face gentled almost as soon as she looked over to where the boy was still kneeling.

"Everything will be okay, Juice. I'm just here to look you over, and I don't expect you to do anything else, do you understand?"

"I didn't mean any disrespect, ma'am," he whispered, and the fear in his voice was plain to hear.

"It's fine," Tara tried soothingly. "No one's mad. I just have a couple questions for you, just to see how you've been doing, and I need you to answer them truthfully." She smiled though they could both see the lad swallow hard, fingers gripping his knees. "How have you been feeling since you came to us, Juice?"

"Grateful," the lad said, his voice cracking with stress. "I'm so grateful the Sons kept me."

"Not quite what I meant," Tara said, voice mild. "I need to know if you're feeling tired? Or hungry?"

"I haven't--I get time to eat and sleep, ma'am. If I'm being slow, I'll work faster."

"Juice," He flinched at hearing his name and Chibs could see Tara's expression tighten in return. "Are you getting enough food?"

"Yes, ma'am. More than I deserve," Juice whispered. His chest was rising and falling fast, hands clenched into tight fists in his lap as if he could sense the growing displeasure Tara was trying to hide. "I'm glad to be fed," he tried.

"It's important that you eat well," Tara said, nodding, but Chibs could see that just under her expression and the kind timbre of her voice the anger he'd encountered outside still simmered. "Can you tell me, Juice, do you hurt anywhere right now?"

"I don't understand," the lad said after a moment, his face confused.

Tara crouched down in front of him, a hand on his shoulder. "Has anyone done anything to you to make you hurt, or were you hurting before you came to the Sons?"

"Not since before, with the Mayans--" Juice cut himself off, voice trembling as he changed tacks. "You mean correction. I asked for punishment when I was messing up with Chibs but he didn't want to then. I can do it now." His breath was coming quick, sounding on the cusp of hyperventilation as he looked up at Chibs. "Sir, I can take the punishment now."

He dropped his hands to his waist again, gripping his shirt to pull it over his head when Tara reached out, stopping him in his tracks by taking the lad's hands firmly into her own. "Juice, no one is going to hurt you. You aren't going to be punished. If you're injured in any way, I can help you get better." Juice was staring dumbfounded at where her fingers were wrapped around his palms. "This isn't a test. I want to make sure you're safe."

"I don't think I'm supposed to touch you," Juice breathed, eyes huge.

Tara smiled at him and even from Chibs' angle he could tell it was forced, but she held on to the lad's hands anyway. "No one is going to get mad at you for something I choose to do, Juice."

He looked at her in wonder as she sat down beside him. "Hand me my bag," she called over to Chibs as she settled herself into the floor before promising the lad, "Nothing I'm going to do today is going to hurt."

And Chibs was relieved to see Juice, though still wary, slowly extend his arm as Tara pulled out a blood pressure cuff, allowing her to wrap it around his bicep and take his pulse. He stayed just on the edge of tension as she pulled out her stethoscope and asked him to breathe, pressing it to his chest through his shirt. After Tara checked the lymph nodes at his neck, Juice gasped when she felt under his arms, his face twisting with remorse afterwards at his involuntary resistance.

"It can tickle," Tara murmured, moving away swiftly, not acknowledging the relief on the boy's face.

Tara carried out her physical exam with gentle confidence until she finally set her instruments aside, looking somber. "You did a great job," she praised, "But there's just one more thing. This might be uncomfortable to talk about, Juice, but I have to ask you some questions about sex."

The lad swallowed, staring at the ground. Chibs had no doubt that he was trying to retreat back into his head.

"You been sexually active in the last year--" and at the boy's nod, "--with both male and female partners?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How many people within the last six months?"

His voice was low. "I'm sorry, I don't know, ma'am. I can try to think back."

"That's okay, Juice. You don't have to do that." Tara looked at Chibs for a second, hesitant to ask whatever was coming up next. "Do you use protection during intercourse?"

The lad was silent for a long moment before answering. "Ma'am, I can't talk about club business."

Tara looked confused. "Club business?" From her expression, she clearly had been expecting another answer. "What does this have to do with club business?"

Juice curled more tightly into himself, looking hunted. "I can't talk about the Sons. I know you're Jax's old lady but I don't want to make anyone mad."

"Chibs, I need you to leave." Tara said to him. He could hear the anger again, a slow roil under her voice.

"Sorry, Tara," Chibs said slowly, "but I'm not leaving you both alone in this room. Jax's orders."

"I said get out!" Tara shouted, furious, coming up to her feet. She froze, looking completely out of her element as Juice dropped to the floor like a lead weight, forehead to the carpet, hands clasped behind his neck, anticipating violence. "It's okay, Juice," she tried, but her voice was shaking with adrenaline.

Unable to stay away when the boy was so clearly wrought with fear, Chibs walked over from his place near the entrance of the room and crouched down, placing a hand solidly on his back. Juice jerked away at the first contact of Chibs' hands on him, fingers white where they were threaded together like he was hanging on for dear life, but Chibs kept at it, hushing him with long, firm strokes against palpably tense muscles. When Juice looked up, his expression was strained.

"Please don't be mad," he begged.

"You're okay, lad," Chibs said, gripping him hard by the shoulders. "You're not breaking rules. Just answer her questions, alright?" Chibs cleared his throat, feeling choked by the desperation on Juice's face. "You have to answer the doctor's questions," he ordered again.

The lad dropped his head to the floor again for a slow count, and Chibs could see him forcing himself to take air, breathe deep. Juice finally uncurled, turning to Tara, releasing the grip of his hands from his neck and roughly wiping his cheeks. "I don't, ma'am," he said, eyes immediately darting back to Chibs for reassurance. "I can't ask them to use a rubber with me. Only if they want to." He looked afraid to say it out loud, as if he knew either Tara or Chibs could want to take their displeasure out on him. "It's different," he tried to explain though their silence. "The crow eaters can ask, but I can't--I'm here for whatever they want."

Juice looked at Chibs again, and his face was worried at what he saw. "Chibs--I'm grateful. I know it could be worse. I owe everyone a lot and I'm glad you let me stay."

"I hear you, lad," Chibs responded. It wasn't hard to understand Tara's expression when Chibs met her eyes.

"Have you--" Tara stopped to clear her throat. "Have you been injured during intercourse since you've come here?"

"I try to take care of myself." Juice said in an obvious sidestep, meeting her eyes for just a second before looking away again. "I open myself up in the morning and again before dinner, just in case. It's not good if I get torn, so a couple fingers helps." His face was red. "Hurts less and the guys don't have to worry about prep." Chibs wondered who he was kidding, if anyone was worrying about prepping the lad but the lad himself.

"And what do you do if you get hurt?" Tara asked slowly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

"I wait for them to bring in a doctor," Juice said. "I know you're for the Sons, ma'am. I wouldn't take up your time." He dropped into silence, leaving unsaid what that usually meant for him.

"Juice, if you ever need help, if you ever need medical care, you make sure one of the Sons gets you to me, do you understand? I'll handle it, no matter what the problem is." The smile on her face was tight but her voice was determined. "Given your history I'm going to need to take some blood to make sure you're clean. I can prescribe anything you might need if we find something out of place."

Juice looked discomfited even as he extended his arm again. "If Clay and Jax say it's okay, I can work something out with you. I'll pay you back slow, but I will." He didn't move as Tara tied a tourniquet around his arm, palpating to find a proper vein and then inserting the needle, all with practiced movements. "I can cook and clean. Or if you want to take it out in trade. With the Mayans, the girls said I was good with my mouth--"

"You don't need to do that."

Juice fell quiet.

"Do you have a chip?" Tara asked, changing the subject as they both watched the test tube fill with blood.

Juice shook his head. "No, ma'am. I swear I'd never try to run away. I want to be here." He was quiet for a heartbeat, two, before the lad took a deep breath, clearly gathering his courage. His face was nervous, eyes darting towards where Chibs was standing by the door. "If I could ask something?" And at Tara's nod--"I'll pay you as soon as I have the cash, but if you have--if I could get some lube. Just a tube or two. I can prepare myself better. Keep from getting torn."

Fuck, Chibs thought, feeling ill.

Juice cowered at the expression on Tara's face, careful not to disturb the arm she held but cringing away as if expecting to be struck. "I'm sorry to be--I didn't mean--" He looked frightened enough to even be making the request, but when he caught Chibs' eyes, Juice's face crumbled. "Just a little," he begged. "Not enough to be loose. I don't want to be loose for you, I promise."

The tension in the room rose steeply with every second that no one spoke until even Chibs felt choked by the weight The lad was terrified, and Tara's fury was reaching supernova, radiating outwardly enough that Chibs suddenly became aware of the sweat on the back of his neck, his forehead, as he wondered how he was going to get them through the rest of the visit.

"I'm sorry I asked," the lad whispered, watching Tara untie the tourniquet with jerky movements. "I'll keep using what I got." Juice bit his lip. As soon as she released him, he crouched low again, hands on the ground, forehead to the floor.

"You guys can't fucking get him lubricant, but you can jam yourselves into him at every opportunity?" Tara asked. Her eyes were flat as she looked at Chibs.

"I didn't think--" he started.

"I know you didn't fucking think," Tara hissed. "You didn't think when you let the Mayans give you a human being. You didn't think when you fucked him without a condom. You didn't think about whether he needed to take care of himself before you all--"

Her eyes went wide.

"Has Jax slept with him?" she asked suddenly. Her question dropped like a stone to the bottom of a well, ringing heavily against their silence.

"Tara, let it go," Chibs said, but he realized as soon as he uttered the words that it was the wrong thing to say, and he cursed himself for always saying the wrong thing at the wrong fucking time.

She turned to the prone figure on the ground. "Juice?"

"I'm sorry," the lad whispered.

"Answer the question," she ordered hoarsely.

"Please don't be mad," Juice begged. Though he couldn't see the look in her eyes, Juice could clearly read the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to come crashing down on him at any second. Every muscle was taut and trembling; he was tucked against himself like he was trying to disappear. "It's not the same. He doesn't love me, I'm just a hole." And then at her silence: "You can punish me, too. Please. I'll be good." His body was shaking visibly, hands moving up to clench behind his neck again, fingers white with the fierceness of his grip.

"How can you--" she started, and then Tara looked down at the floor, saying nothing. After a minute, she stepped around Juice, and began to pack up her things, without looking at Chibs or the man on the floor. Her motions were tight and controlled. The blood samples went into a case and the case carefully tucked away with the rest of her medical instruments. She rolled up the blood pressure cuff and coiled the stethoscope back into its own fabric holder before putting these away as well and closing the bag with a soft click. Then, the three of them stayed frozen in their respective places for a long, wordless moment before Tara shook her head, breaking the awful tension that held them all in place.

"I'll have your results in a few days," Tara said in a low voice, still not looking at either of them. She left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Can't Erase](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198602) by [sanidine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanidine/pseuds/sanidine)




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